


Harder Choices

by sifshadowheart



Series: The Empire of Avalon [2]
Category: Doom (2005), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Avalon - Freeform, Blood Magic, Chromosome 24, Destruction of Vulcan, F/M, Gen, Genetically Engineered Beings, Harem, Harry Does What He Wants, King Harry, M/M, Male Slash, Mating Rituals, Multi, Non-Canon Relationship, Non-Canonical Character Death, Political Harry, Pon Farr, Powerful Harry, Pre-Slash, Pureblood Culture, Pureblood Harry, Pureblood Politics, Pureblood Society, Rampant Magical Doings, Rituals, Ruthless Harry, Slash, Smart Harry, T'hy'la, Vulcan Culture, Vulcan Kisses, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?, Worldbuilding, spock needs a hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-05 01:13:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 59,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5355422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sifshadowheart/pseuds/sifshadowheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Avalon Seven A/U...a.k.a. This is what happens when plot-bunnies start mating and multiplying.</p><p>Hadrian saves Earth...at a cost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue/Introduction

** Harder Choices **

**_ An Avalon Story _ **

Author’s Note READ ME FIRST:

  1.   I’ve been having a really, really hard time focusing on my two main fics.  As a result I’ve got some side-story/spin-off/alternate universe stories that I’ve been working on, trying to make the plot bunnies stop (for the love of Merlin, please make them stop).



That’s where this has come from, sprouting from the darkness that is my mind.

 _Harder Choices_ is an a/u in many respects of _Avalon Seven_.  Some things are the same but many, many are different.  There’s not any one thing that I can simply point to and say: “This is a spoiler for Avalon Seven.”  You’ll just have to go with it.  The big difference however to make sure there’s not any spoilers for the main fic is that Hadrian hasn’t taken any consorts at all nor is he bound to any contracts in this fic.

 _Harder Choices_ because it’s so different from _Avalon Seven_ there’s no real point in me telling you what else I’ve changed.

This is still SLASH-Harem for Hadrian and no amount of whining or pleading will change that.  Slash is what I write for main pairings, even if Hadrian or Frey or any other incarnation of Harry I come up with flirts or even dates a female, in the end he’ll be in a Slash pairing.

Now that _that_ is over, on with the story!

…One last thing.  I have no idea when next I’ll update the main Lokison fic.  Check my Facebook for status updates for new chapter info or even new story announcements…

**_Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Sherlock, and Star Trek: 2009 & Into Darkness are all property of their respective authors, publishers, screenwriters, etc.  This piece of fan-authored-fiction is strictly for entertainment with no monetary gain.  Please don’t sue me, I’m poor._ **

…

** Prologue **

_The King’s Audience Chamber_

_Skye Palace_

_Avalon_

_The Festival of Vali, February 14 th, 2000_

…

Hadrian stared blankly out across the imposing audience chamber as those gathered on the festival day talked quietly amongst themselves.

Not in anyone’s wildest dreams had they ever thought it would come to _this_.

The Great Mother was dying.

It was a superstition among the Olde Families – many of them Houses of varying degree like the thirteen he’d found himself Head of at the grand age of eleven – that with the death of magical creatures and the lessening of magical blood that Magic herself would die out.  In the modern era of magic that arose in the wake of the Throne of Avalon being empty for centuries, no one really _believed_ it however.  They forsook the Olde Religion and the Olde Ways and the Olde Magicks, preferring to allow themselves to fall into the sloth and comfort and laziness of the modern world.

A mistake the Great Mother was paying for, in spades.

Magic was dying.

 _Earth_ itself was dying.

Unless someone does _something_ to stop it.

A state of affairs that had led to this…gathering.

Hadrian hated his fame as the Boy-Who-Lived, a title that followed him around like a fly on a corpse, one gained from the death of his parents.

He like even less being dubbed the “Savior” or the insipid “Chosen One.”

Truly, the only titles he bore with grace were those he’d _earned_ either through Claiming his blood-rights or through Conquest as with the newest title he held: The-Man-Who-Conquered.

He took the damned Dark Lord’s snaky-head two years ago at seventeen, following years of research and searching into his foul Horcruxes – such as the one removed from his own body by the Goblins after he’d been rescued from his beloved “family” by his former guardians the Holmes.  It was an absolute and victorious end to the vile creature, his minions all rounded up and…dealt with.

Avalonian justice was swift and without remorse.

Those executions – and the manner in which they were carried out – led to the unequivocal discovery that the planet was, in fact, slowly dying.

Too many wars – magical and mundane – coupled with too much destruction of the wilds and the rampant spilling of magical blood in the last two centuries carried a heavy price on their Great Mother.  It was a shaming realization to know that if not for the actions – and inactions – of the magical world that things would not have devolved to this state.  Old _Tom_ was right in the end.  Muggles were a menace.  One that would have and _should have_ been checked by their magical cousins.

Call it bad luck or bad timing, but there wasn’t a _worse_ coupling of events in history than the decline of magical blood and the industrial revolution and all the devastation upon nature that came with it.

He and his Council had found a solution – but whether it was in time was the question.

It would cause an uproar.

He would be painted blacker than Tom or Gellert or Herpo the Foul.

But it had to be done.

Hadrian both as himself and as the King of the most powerful empire in the world, would not sit idly by and watch as Mother of All died, pacing unlamented into the darkness.

Let them revile him.

Let them strike his name from History.

Let them call him destroyer and demon and despot.

Let them.

His conscience was clear.

He _would_ act.

Though what the outcome would be, he may never know.

For while the spell he would cast with Magic’s Blessing and the wardstone structures of his Empire – warding stones that have been placed all across the world since the founding of Avalon that powered the magical protections of the Empire – was known, the ritual to save who he could of the magical race was _not_.

The plan was simple and complex all at once – like most his mind came up with thanks to his many years of studying at Sherlock’s and Mycroft’s knees.

He would cast the Emrys Curse – named for the Ancient and Royal House who created it back in the beginning of magic’s blessing – a singular spell that a rumored Seeress created.  That Lady of House Emrys foresaw a need which has arisen at several points in time where the magic contained in those Blessed or blessed with magical blood; creature, being, spirit, and human alike; would be either siphoned back into the Great Mother immediately or upon their death.  Hadrian had used the Curse many times throughout his Reign as a form of execution for the worst of wrongdoers.

Magical beings cannot survive without _magic_ after all.

His favoring of the Curse was one reason why he was as feared and respected as he was loved as a King and Ruler of his people.

It was the second part of The Plan as Siri had taken to calling it that had the possibility of, well, killing his fine ass as his friend Tavi put it.

When the slow, agonizing, death of the Great Mother had been uncovered during the last execution carried out through the Curse, those on the Council who had been trusted with the information and finding a solution had despaired.

As had all who he’d informed.

Then the hard choice came to light: Hadrian could use the Curse to save the Mother.

But at a cost.

Lords Ollivander, Malfoy, and Prince – some of the finest minds on the Council – had all checked and rechecked their calculations.

As far as they could tell, Hadrian _could_ , theoretically, save the Mother.  But it would take casting the Curse on nearly every magical being alive.  And even then, whether he spelled it for immediacy or upon their deaths, the Great Mother wouldn’t be able to support her Magical children for centuries more.

Earth could no longer be the home of a Magical populace.

Not for, (as close as they could tell using both Arithmancy, Runes, and Divination), _at least_ two hundred years.

And that was if the trigger-happy mundanes kept their sticky fingers _off_ of the launch button of any more weapons of mass destruction.

Though if they actually started giving a damn about their Mother and doing _something_ about the damage they’ve wrought on Her then it could be less time.

It really (and this part made Lucius grimace) depended all on their mundane cousins.

A hard choice for any monarch.

Did he save his people knowing that in a few short centuries Earth Herself would fail?

Perhaps hoping that the strides the mundanes were making would save them all?

Or did he sentence the magical world _as he knew it_ to death?

Their genes would live on, of course.

The Curse didn’t make them sterile.

But it _would_ prevent any more magical births.

For all intents and purposes, any children born after he cast the Curse would be mundane, not even Squibs as Squibs had the magical gene it simply laid dormant within them.

He wept for his people and the Great Mother after the Council had left him, their words echoing after them.

It was a choice all of them to a man were glad rested on another’s shoulders – and conscience – though many wished it had fallen to someone other than Hadrian.

Never had a King reigned who face harder choices than their young King.

To them it was as if he’d been born under a Cursed Star, inheriting heartbreak after heartbreak alongside Ancuru, Avalon, and his Name.

Then a spark lit in Sherlock’s eye when he was discussing and deducing all the angles of the decision with his foster-brother, leading him to leave at once for his apartment via the charmed port-key Hadrian had made for all his mundane family.

Sherlock returned with a recent edition of Popular Science and a smirk that would scare his lover John senseless if he’d been there to see it.  Thankfully the good Doctor Watson was away and busy with his pro bono work at a free clinic.  He slapped it wordlessly down onto the desk before his much-younger brother and took up his lotus-position upon his favorite chair in Hadrian’s private study.

“Eighty.”  Was all the consulting detective said, then qualified himself.  “Though in my opinion two hundred would be best.”

It was an article discussing colonization.

More specifically, the amount of people (mating pairs if one wanted to be specific) needed to create and sustain a viable population _without_ contact with others of the same species.

And with that, what could only be termed An Idea was born.

…


	2. Why Sherlock and Hadrian Really, Really Need A Babysitter

** Harder Choices **

_Disclaimer: Not mine.  Except the original characters…those are mine._

**Chapter One**

**Or “Why Sherlock and Hadrian really, really, need a babysitter.”**

“By Logic, that’s not enough _time_ Hadrian!”  Sherlock swore at his stubborn foster-brother.

It was January 2, 2000, mere hours after the consulting detective had tossed a mundane magazine onto the desk before the King of Avalon.  They’d been sequestered ever since, hashing out plans, needs, requirements, trying to cobble together a sturdy outline to present to the others in their family before Hadrian would take it to his trusted advisors on his Council.  It was the first time the young king had felt even a glimmer of hope since he’d discovered the steady decay the Great Mother was suffering from on Samhain.

Leave it to a genius who revels in riddles to think outside the box – or the magical world in this case – for a solution.

Well…sort of.

Sherlock had come up with the idea of colonizing another planet using magic.

Hadrian had come up with a different idea altogether.

It had nuances of Sherlock’s plan but leaned much more on magic and much less on science.

Par for the course when it came to debates between the foster-siblings.  Sherlock may be old enough to be Hadrian’s father but due to his work and John’s as well as Hadrian’s soon-discovered heritage and duties, it made much more sense for the young, abused child John had found to be raised by Sherlock’s father Siger.  The consulting detective, his doctor-lover, and the British Government Mycroft had all kept their hands in when it came to Hadrian’s rearing but the day-to-day became the territory of Hadrian’s official guardians.

Foster-brother was much more accurate a label than any other they could come up with.

Though Mycroft oft complained that partners-in-terror might be a much better option.

“Six weeks.”  Hadrian reminded the genius.  “We have six weeks before Vali and the dignitaries’ arrival for the Festival.  Six weeks to prepare and then present our solution.  And over four months following before we have to pull it off.”

“It’s not enough time.”

“It’s all we have.”  Hadrian’s lean, handsome face seemed to age before Sherlock’s very eyes.  “I’ve spent as much time and magic as I can spare communing with Her.  If something isn’t done by the Solstice, there’s no point in making any alternate plans at all.  By that time, if we haven’t acted, it will take _all_ of the magical blood on the planet to rejuvenate Her.  If that is, indeed, the choice I make.”

Sherlock’s usually stony heart wavered seeing the strain his brother for the last fifteen years was under.  Then his mind kicked in once more.

“Why the Solstice?”

It was a fair question.

Hadrian gestured vaguely towards the diagrams he’d sketched frantically onto the magical version of a blackboard.

“I’ve done the equations.  This sort of thing has to be done by a single magical power and core.  Any help and all it would achieve is muddy the waters.  The magic has to be pure in all ways for what we’ve hoping to accomplish: intent, power, ideals, everything.”

His brother restrained the urge to goggle.

Even Avalon hadn’t been created _or_ placed into the air by a single mage.

What they were suggesting was so much worse, power-drain wise.

“That would kill you.”  He was nearly shouting.  “If it even works at all.”

“Exactly.”  Hadrian sighed, rubbing his forehead wearily.

“What difference would the time of year make then?”

Sherlock snorted.  As if the number of leaves on a tree or some such nonsense would keep his brother from doing something, well, _stupid_.  Especially for someone of Hadrian’s intellect.

“All.”  A voice said in a near whisper from the shadowed doorway.  The two brothers were so busy with their discussion that the normally paranoid males didn’t even notice their guest entering the room.  “It would make all the difference if Hadrian is going to harness wild magic to accomplish…whatever it is you’re discussing.”

“Lord Prince.”  Hadrian rose and nodded formally to his potions master, accepting Severus’s bow with grace.  “Ever the spy.”

Severus gave what was _almost_ a smile.  Studying the diagrams – and making better sense of them than Sherlock as the detective had deleted most information on magical subjects from his memory – he came to a quick conclusion.

“No.”  His shiver-inducing voice mused.  “Not wild magic.  Power.  Whatever this ritual you’ve started designing is meant to do, you’re harnessing power to do it.  And seeing as you mentioned the Solstice I would wager on a combination of the Sun and Life.”

Hadrian grinned helplessly at the man.  It was true after all.

“The Sun and Life.”  Sherlock rapidly made connections in the manner his was known for.  “That’s why the Solstice.  The Sun’s power in the Northern Hemisphere would be strongest on the longest day and one would assume that _Life_ if such a thing _can_ be harnessed, would be the most powerful between the end of winter and the beginning of fall, when all of nature is growing.”

“It’s the only way I can see clear.”  Hadrian sighed once more as he retook his seat.  “Talking about a spell that would transport Avalon to a place where it would flourish is all well and good.  Actually _doing_ so is another thing entirely.”  He gave each of the men a piercing glance.  “This goes no further.  I have little hope and less chance of surviving the ritual.  But…”

“With the power of the Sun behind you.”  Severus began.

“And that of Life backing you.”  Sherlock continued where his counterpart left off.

“I might be able to save both the Great Mother _and_ my people.”  Hadrian smiled wistfully, staring out from a window that overlooked the bustling grand courtyard.  “What more can a King hope to accomplish?”

…

There were many such closed-door (unless you were Sev or Tavi and somehow were able to get into Hadrian’s study _despite_ the wards) meetings between Sherlock and Hadrian over the next six weeks.

They discussed ideas for everything: how prepared Avalon was, how many people could Avalon and Hadrian’s various estates hold with room for growth, the cost of the many, _many_ , supplies they would need to lay-in in a short period, where they would store said supplies.

Anything and everything that would need to be addressed before they could even dream of attempting the ritual on the Solstice was covered between the two geniuses.

Flora, fauna, ecosystems.

Bio-and-genetic diversity.

Genetic screening, animal husbandry, _human_ reproduction.

Sherlock even had to re-read (and this time _not_ delete) John’s various medical textbooks and many of Hadrian’s magical ones in order to determine the viability of a hybrid of magical and mundane in-vitro fertilization and artificial insemination.  It was decided between the two that while yes, it could be done, it wasn’t the preferred method of sustaining a viable population.  Hence needing to know the exact limits of Hadrian’s direct holdings.

After all, with the way most magical humans viewed mundane medical procedures as barbary, trying to convince a witch or bearing wizard to be artificially implanted with either someone’s sperm or an embryo was somewhere around the likelihood of snowcones-in-hell.

Hadrian was often found sleeping at his desk or with dark circles under his vibrant viridian eyes with Sherlock either right next to him with a strong cup of tar masquerading as tea or curled up in his favorite chair asleep himself for a few (very few) hours of rest.

Scrolls and scrolls of notes were taken courtesy of the King’s charmed fountain pens that hovered diligently around the two men as they dictated to the magical implements.

While Sherlock focused mainly on the details of the situation they were due to present to the Privy Council (with help from John and Mycroft), his foster-brother worked tirelessly at fashioning the Ritual which made Sherlock’s work not only prudent but necessary (with sarcastic commentary and fastidious eyes provided by the father-and-son Princes).

It was with an exclamation of great success that Hadrian tossed his piece of chalk aside mere days before Vali and the Festival.

He’d done it.

Yes, _talking_ about designing a ritual to save what of magic they could in a different locale was all well and good.

Actually _making_ a Ritual that could pull it off _without_ delving into the Blackest Arts of Death and Soul Magicks was a thestral of a different color.

It was Bloode Magick of the most ancient and potentially deadly kind.

It was elegance wrapped in brute force, dusted with crushed dragon scales and sprinkled with unicorn blood (willingly given, of course.)

It was necessary.

“You’ve done it, then?”  John asked idly from his place correcting Sherlock’s notes at a side-table.  His partner’s horrid habit of “deleting” “useless” information sometimes carried over into the notes the enchanted pens had taken.  The good doctor had set himself to the task of making sure something like say, _toilet paper_ , wasn’t left off of the supply list because Sherlock tended to forget about things like bodily functions.

The annoying intellect was busy in his mind-palace reviewing his notes in another way.

Hadrian wrapped his hand around his chin and gave his neck a satisfying _crack_ , relieving a fraction of the tension that had developed over the preceding months.

“Yes.”  He rolled his shoulders.  “Though for all my occasional complaints over having to do some formalities over and over again because of my Houses and Titles, I’m glad of them now.”

“Why’s that, then?”

“Power.”  Sherlock woke up from his mind-palace, answering for his brother.  “The lynch-pin of the whole problem.  Hadrian’s power, to be precise.”

His brother nodded, absently continuing as he rubbed out kinks and stretched.

“Sherlock, as ever, is right.  Because of my bloodlines and blood-rights, I have thirteen Houses of which I’m Lord and seven of those are Royal.  Seven is the most powerful number, magically-speaking, though thirteen is no slouch itself.  If I was any other sovereign with any other inheritance, what we’re to attempt wouldn’t even be a whisper of a dream.”

“That’s before one takes into account that our King holds the Slytherin Title by both Right-of-Blood and Right-of-Conquest.”  Severus drawled as he tapped one long finger against the Slytherin Banner behind his chair.  “One.  Another powerful number.”

“Plus Blood Magic tends to like Conquest.”  His son and Heir Octavian added from his father’s side.  Tavi, to his friends and family, many consider him to be the foremost candidate for the title of Consort of Avalon, though for the moment it was mere rumor and speculation.

One thing magicals had in common with their mundane counterparts was that they liked their leaders _stable_ and therefore _married_.

Hadrian’s bachelorhood at nineteen mightily vexed every pureblooded mama with an eligible child – male or female – as the King had never shown favor nor deigned to Court a single prospect.

Picky didn’t even _begin_ to describe the King of Avalon, which fueled rumors from spiteful witches and wizards that their”beloved” – but so-very-ruthless – monarch was asexual or impotent.

Scandal upon scandal, he’d never even taken an official Concubine nor Mistress.

As if he’d had time for such carnal pursuits with getting his kingdom in order and taking down a Dark Lord while defanging a Light Lord.

“Are we ready then?”  John asked, the five conspirators trading glances before each nodded in turn, Mycroft absent due to his duties to England.

“Very well then.”  Hadrian drew in a bracing breath.  “I’ll call the Council.”

…

Presenting their – well, _His_ – plan to the Council went much better than Hadrian had thought.

All in all, it only took ten hours for the shouting, breaking crystal, and fisticuffs to die down.  Rather tame for such a volatile group of wizards and a single witch.

To be fair, the fisticuffs were restrained to the Lord Prince who had joined them on this occasion and the Lord Constable of Avalon.

No matter how old they got, Siri and Sev simply _could not_ control themselves when it came to their seething wells of hatred and disdain.

“One thousand.”  Hadrian nodded thoughtfully at a suggestion from Lady Bones.  “That number is easily attained from the various magical communities and lodged throughout my holdings.”

“All will have to be carefully screened down to a genetic level.”  John spoke up, one of the first times he’d ever been present for an official meeting of the Avalonian Privy Council.  “The main pitfall of colonization – beyond the matter of supplies – is genetic stagnation.  This will require a firm split of bearers both male and female as well as potential fathers with a diverse genetic background as free from recessive traits and disorders as possible.”

Sirius snorted a laugh.  “That leaves out most British purebloods then.”

The Council chuckled, all knowing full-well the interbred status of the British Wizarding World.  Hadrian was a prime example of it was were Sirius and Lucius.  Otherwise a single King holding so many Titles would’ve been impossible.

“If we’re determined to do this?”  Amelia Bones, the Lord (Lady) High Justice of Avalon arched a brow in question, fielding nods of varying firmness and indecision from her fellows.  “Then it would be best to limit the number of British Families included.  For all that our Lord Constable’s comment was off-color at best, it does ring with a certain amount of veracity.”

Nods abounded, many chagrined.

It was humbling to acknowledge that their ancestor’s ideals of pureblood was going to severely curtail the number of their own families that would be able to be saved as magical beings.

Yes, they would live on without their magics, the names would continue.

They _will_ live.

As long as they didn’t do anything…stupid.

Hadrian waved his hand and a long sheet of parchment floated into place at his side at the head of the table.  It detailed who he wanted approached from within his Empire – and who he didn’t.  All of his Council breathed a sigh of relief.  All of them and their immediate families had made the cut – but all were still welcome to decline as several were considering.

There would still be a need for order after Hadrian performed what was shaping up to be more and more of a miracle.

Knowing that she was sterile, Amelia was the first to stand with the stern grace she was known for.

“I appreciate – from the bottom of my heart – that I have been included in your plans, my King.”  She spoke softly, holding back her grief.  “But I must decline and instead ask that you consider accepting my niece and Heir Susan in my place.”

“It will be done.”  Hadrian moved to her side and bowed low over her hand.  “We – _I_ – thank you for your many years of service and the many more to come as you weather the coming storm.”

“Thank you, your Grace.”

“I as well,” Garrick Ollivander, aged and wise rose creakily to his feet.  “Though there will be little need for a wandmaker in the coming years on Earth, these old bones will rest better here than elsewhere.  I defer in place of my children.  Let my Heir Eddard take up the mantle of Lord Ollivander.  May he serve you well, your Grace.”

“Thank you, Lord Ollivander.”  Hadrian nodded respectfully.  “Any others?”

The elder brothers Holmes stood as well, Siger and Sherrinford had guided and molded Hadrian well and had never been prouder of their ward.  But like Ollivander, they were beyond the age of having children.  Their gifts would be better utilized guiding the wizarding and mundane worlds in the wake of Hadrian’s Ritual.

Hadrian quickly blinked back tears as his foster-brothers shared a rare emotion-filled look before giving an even rarer hug to their father and uncle.

“No mention of my cousins?”  Hadrian asked wryly of Sherrinford about his two children.

An elder statesman, tall and proud, Sherrinford gave a derisive scoff.

“You know as well as I that _that_ wouldn’t do.  An adventure of this sort is hardly to their taste.”  Lord Holmes rolled his eyes.  “We’d all best hope that one of them produces a true Holmes or the future might well go to hell in a handbasket.”

None of the male Holmeses knew precisely what went wrong with Sherrinford’s children.  Though Sherlock was always quick to point out how insufferable his aunt was as a probable cause.  Hadrian simply snickered in agreement, ignoring the glares from their uncle whenever the topic came up.

“The Longbottoms.”  Gawain, Lord Wallace coughed lightly.  “Is there a reason you’ve included the Dowager as well as Lord Neville and Lady Luna?”

Siri and Remy chuckled as Hadrian scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“After all the damned work I put in to get Augusta as my Head Chatelaine you think I’m going to leave her _behind?_  Are you out of your kilt-wearing _mind_?”

…

It was madness.  Madness to the extent that it made the contretemps of the meeting of the Privy Council seem tame.  Madness that distinctly reminded Hadrian of the meetings with the various magical and mundane dignitaries he had following his Claiming.

In other words, it was Vali and the various powers of Earth had been gathered in the Great Hall of his alternate residence where he had such large gatherings: Snowdon Castle in Wales, former Seat of the Emrys Royal House before the Founding of the Empire of Avalon.

His Lord High Chancellor, also known as his former guardian and uncle Lord Sherrinford Holmes, had barely finished announcing Hadrian’s plan to the group when it broke out in nothing less than chaos.

Sherrinford was _displeased._

Hadrian was just glad that the Great Hall was warded to the gills against offensive magics.

Sitting on his throne in full regalia: basilisk hide boots, trousers, and dueling-style over-robe in poisonous green with a black sleeveless Queen Acromantula-silk tunic underneath and Ancuru in a matching basilisk-hide sheath at his side for once instead of strapped to his back, long silken fall of ebony hair left loose instead of pulled or braided back as was his preference, the King of Avalon tapped one finger against the smooth arm of his throne from his seat upon the dais.

“How long do you think they’ll be at it?”  Siri leaned over from his seat in the Privy Council’s gallery and asked his mate in a whisper meant to carry.  Remus, his mate and the Lord Protector of Avalon, simply batted him back into his seat with a mild scolding glare.

“Not too much longer.”  Mycroft looked up from the smartphone that had been warded for use in magical areas.  The duties of the British Government never ceased.  He was looking forward to their relocation for an actual vacation if nothing else.

Though he did hope for a spot of plotting, else this new colony was going to prove dreadfully dull.

At least Sherlock was coming along, heckling his little brother _never_ got old.

“He’s right, the cunning bastard.”  McG, a former HitWizard and current Captain of the Avalonian Guard as well as Professor McGonagall’s son, noted from his spot leaning against the wall.  “Our Little Lord’s got the beginnin’s of a furrow growin’ ‘tween his brows.  He’ll rein ‘em in soon enough.”

McG hadn’t been around the young King of Avalon as long as many members of the Council had but found letting go of the nickname he’d given the sovereign before he Claimed his Inheritance harder than most.

He simply couldn’t get over the wide-eyed stare from a wee bit of a sprite out of his head from when he’d accepted the position as Hadrian’s main bodyguard.

These days “Little Lord” hardly suited the six-foot-three ruler with his wide shoulders and lean swimmer’s build.

Of course, if McG’d had to pack around a sword that was as much of a heavy, cumbersome bastard as Ancuru since _he_ was eleven years of age, he’d have shoulders and arms like that too.

The damned thing refused to leave the boy’s side ever since he’d “Arthur’d” it from the main wardstone of Skye Palace directly after his Claiming.

Soon the Scotsman was proven right as Hadrian spoke softly, the rabble instantly silenced at his words.  Not even the most foolish of those gathered – and there were many, many fools among these statesman and career politicians – dared to directly anger the King of Avalon.

And those that would didn’t have the spine to stand against the Man-Who-Conquered.

Though with Hadrian’s current plans, he might be adding “World-Builder” to his trail of accolades.  Right alongside the “Destroyer” label those left behind would be inclined to grace him with.  Not that he’ll be around to give a fuck.

Or has ever really given a fuck about the popular opinion of him.

Hadrian had proven to have zero qualms when it came to manipulating public opinion, even going so far as to remove Lucius Malfoy’s Dark Mark and bind him into his own service to make use of the man’s genius in steering the press.

And when he spoke it wasn’t what anyone had expected him to say:

_“And God saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually._

_And it repented the Lord that he had made man on the earth, and it grieved him at his heart.7 And the Lord said, I will destroy man whom I have created from the face of the earth; both man, and beast, and the creeping thing, and the fowls of the air; for it repenteth me that I have made them._

_But Noah found grace in the eyes of the Lord._

_These are the generations of Noah: Noah was a just man and perfect in his generations, and Noah walked with God…_

_…The earth also was corrupt before God, and the earth was filled with violence.  And God looked upon the earth, and, behold, it was corrupt; for all flesh had corrupted his way upon the earth._

_And God said unto Noah, The end of all flesh is come before me; for the earth is filled with violence through them; and, behold, I will destroy them with the earth…_

_…And, behold, I, even I, do bring a flood of waters upon the earth, to destroy all flesh, wherein is the breath of life, from under heaven; and every thing that is in the earth shall die.   But with thee will I establish my covenant; and thou shalt come into the ark, thou, and thy sons, and thy wife, and thy sons' wives with thee.  And of every living thing of all flesh, two of every sort shalt thou bring into the ark, to keep them alive with thee; they shall be male and female.  Of fowls after their kind, and of cattle after their kind, of every creeping thing of the earth after his kind, two of every sort shall come unto thee, to keep them alive.  And take thou unto thee of all food that is eaten, and thou shalt gather it to thee; and it shall be for food for thee, and for them.  Thus did Noah; according to all that God commanded him, so did he.  And the Lord said unto Noah, Come thou and all thy house into the ark; for thee have I seen righteous before me in this generation.  Of every clean beast thou shalt take to thee by sevens, the male and his female: and of beasts that are not clean by two, the male and his female.  Of fowls also of the air by sevens, the male and the female; to keep seed alive upon the face of all the earth. For yet seven days, and I will cause it to rain upon the earth forty days and forty nights; and every living substance that I have made will I destroy from off the face of the earth._

_And Noah did according unto all that the Lord commanded him…_

_…And Noah went in, and his sons, and his wife, and his sons' wives with him, into the ark, because of the waters of the flood.  Of clean beasts, and of beasts that are not clean, and of fowls, and of every thing that creepeth upon the earth,  There went in two and two unto Noah into the ark, the male and the female, as God had commanded Noah.  And it came to pass after seven days, that the waters of the flood were upon the earth.”_

“Genesis.”  John murmured.  “The story of Noah and his Ark.”

“Not the _exact_ phrasing.”  Siger noted.  “But perhaps more striking for it.”

Hadrian allowed the passage he’d chosen…just in case…to sink in fully before continuing.

“Neither God nor Magic nor the Great Mother is going to wipe the Earth clean.  No, not this time.  This has been brought upon _all_ creatures of this world for our and their actions.  But like in the story of Noah, there yet is a chance for Life to be saved.”

His voice was low and mesmerizing, capturing even the most stout-hearted of his detractors.

“And for Magic as well.”

Murmurs broke out among the gathered before being swiftly hushed.  All wanted to hear what Hadrian had to say after _that_.  He’d chose exactly the correct tale to spin to silence his opponents.

“The time for squabbling is over.”  Hadrian said, allowing no quarter.  “There will be no debates.  No councils.  No committees.  I,” he waved a hand gesturing towards his Council.  “ _We_ will _not_ allow Our Mother to _perish_ for want of Magic.  We,” this time it was distinctly Royal.  “will not allow it.  Nor shall We suffer Magic to die with Her.  A Spell _shall_ be used.  A Ritual _has been_ prepared.  The _only_ question that remains is whether you _shall_ participate the hard way or the easy way.  Either way you and your countries and territories _will_ be affected.  One way or another.”

…


	3. To Leave The World Behind

** Harder Choices **

**Chapter Two: To Leave The World Behind**

The time was nigh.

It had been done as Hadrian had demanded with nothing but silence and secrecy all around.

And just in time.

Rumors had begun to spread.  Rumors of hideous breaches of humanity.  Of experiments on children yet in the womb.  Of those vulnerable and more importantly _disposable_ by the mundane governments.

They were called Augments.

Specially bred and engineered would-be weapons of the mundane world designed to stand up against threats humanity could not yet face themselves.

It took less than twenty years – just long enough for the first to reach maturity – for war to break out.

Just in time for those of magical blood to have foreseen what was coming – and to accommodate for it.

Their wards in most cases couldn’t keep the Augments out, only those of Avalon herself seemed to work.  Those of magical blood and heritage poured into Avalon and Egypt and Japan as a warlord named Khan moved to take over much of Asia and the Indian sub-continent.

And Hadrian prepared for his Ritual, ignoring all of it.

Humanity would survive – of that he had no doubt.

He remembered watching a documentary once on the most “Unkillable” species on the planet.

Humanity was number one, right above cockroaches, rats, and most viruses.

It was the planet Herself which was Hadrian’s concern, along with saving those he could of his own people.

Once the Ritual took hold, the wards that many had sought to hid behind would dissipate over time as the wardstones lost power with Avalon herself out of reach.  As a result he’d set ward masters all over the world to placing the Fidelis over the as-yet undiscovered wizarding communities and backed it with Vows of silence on the part of the wizarding populace.  They rested in relief, not realizing that in a generation – whether the Augments won or lost – that the wards would fall as all Magic returned to the Great Mother that She might yet survive.

Fifty years was all he could give his people that remained.

It was the outside limits of the Curse.

He prayed to whatever deity might listen that it would be enough, that those left behind might survive.

Hopefully with those such as his foster-father and foster-uncle staying behind as well as Amelia remaining as the British Minister of Magic and the Pharaoh of the Ptolemy and the Emperor of the Rising Sun Empires remaining on Earth and turning their duties over to their selected Heirs who were going with, the wizarding world would have the strength and guidance needed to transition over to being mundane, their magical heritage vanishing from their genome forever.

It was really all that was keeping Hadrian going at this point.

Hope for his family.  Hope for his people.  Hope for the Great Mother.

Even Hope for himself that he might survive what Severus had taken to calling a “spectacular attempt at Gryffindor-style martyrdom.”

At least Sev’s comment was good for a laugh, such things were few and far between these days as they prepared to leave the world behind.

All the people had been chosen, even some mundanes coming along with their spouses.  That was good, it would broaden the gene pool and help prevent some of the issues John _still_ dithered over.

Fawkes had gifted Hadrian with the last of the Phoenix eggs, determined much like many of the elders of various magical races to stay with the Great Mother until the Emrys Curse took him in the end.  Some of the magical races such as Dementors, Leithfolds, and Boggarts that served no purpose and were not useful nor had a natural predator to keep them in check beyond wizarding kind were given no choice in the matter.  Hermione, his classmate from Hedwig Institute and Hogwarts who had married his good friend Cedric Diggory following her graduation, threatned to kick up a fuss over him and his Council being “discriminatory against the survival of _certain_ magical beings and species.”

Luna Lovegood-Longbottom set her down neatly by asking her if the Nargals were being particularly bothersome then perhaps _Hermione_ might be better off staying away from Avalon – where they seemed to congregate.

Mrs. Granger-Diggory had little to say after that, the wordless threat of being cut from the program and left behind more than enough for her to keep a civil tongue in her bushy head.

Everything was set, everyone was gathered.

Now it was time for Hadrian to Curse the entirety of the magical world of Earth then tap into ancient and forbidden magics to take those who were to survive and perhaps even thrive away to a new home where they would be safe if not comfortable, and content if not happy.

Hadrian was too much a realist to hope too strongly for things like comfort and happiness in this trying time.  All he wanted, all he’d _ever_ wanted since learning of his birthright was for his people to not only survive but _live_.  And live fully.

A wish that seemed silly when faced with mass extinction not only of _his_ people but all things upon the Earth.

The Curse was quickly cast in utter privacy.

No one could know of the particulars of it.  It was perhaps the closest guarded secret of the Emrys Line, dating back to their beginnings and shrouded in shadows and whispers.  The wizarding world had gotten tastes of it throughout the eight years he’d Reigned – thus far.  Now all of Earth would come to know of it in time.

But he would not risk a single soul learning of how to cast it – as if they could without being of the blood.

He would not and _could not_ chance that one might be able to twist and turn it until it was usable by another.  A person who would not and _could not_ have the needed respect for the power it gave over what amounts to a magical person as life and death.  Most magicals preferring death to a life without magic.

A preference that he hoped would not lead to a rash of suicides in fifty years when the Curse reached its terminus.

Tearing down the wards that surrounded him as he cast the Curse at the Rollwright Stones, Hadrian apparated directly outside the wide double doors that led to the warding room in the bowels of Skye Palace.  Nodding solemnly to Severus he spoke before entering alone.

“It is done.  There is no other path but forward hence.”

Cutting his hand open on Ancuru’s bared blade, he pressed his crimson palm to the center of the delicately carved doors, allowing just long enough for the blood to seep into the wards before lifting it and lowering his arm once more.  Hadrian shook his head at the offered potion from the stoic observer.

There was no point.

He would only have to slice his palm open again in a moment anyway.

Stepping with heavy ceremony into the center of the massive wardstones that powered all of the wards of Avalon and made the floating islands of Skye Palace and Avalon City possible to remain in the air, Hadrian switched his armor for a plain, undyed, organic silk tunic, as pure as it could possibly be.  Leaning down he placed Ancuru’s sheath parallel to the center Stone where the great blade once made its and to whence it will return upon his own death.  Picking up the candle of purest beeswax scented with sage, frankincense, myrrh, and rosemary, he lit it with his breath before setting it to float upon the air, his above him and the Stones.

Crystals placed, runes drawn – in blood of course, candle lit and Stones prepared there was only one more thing to do before he began.

A simple Blessing.

Closing his eyes he all but sang as he sat in lotus position at the very heart of Avalon:

_“Touch the lintel and touch the wall,_

_Nothing but blessings here befall!_

_Bless the candle that stands by itself,_

_Bless the book on the mantle shelf,_

_Bless the pillow for the tired head,_

_Bless the hearth and the light shed._

_Friends who tarry here, let them know_

_A three fold blessing before they go._

_Sleep for weariness - peace for sorrow_

_Faith in yesterday and tomorrow._

_Friends who go from here, let them bear_

_The blessing of hope, wherever they fare._

_Lintel and windows, sill and wall,_

_Nothing but good, this place befall.”_

It was a simple rhyme and a simple wish, but such things are often more powerful than all the runes and preparations in the world.

…

Opening his bright – but saddened – eyes, Hadrian rose to his feet with the effortless grace Andromeda and his foster-mother Margeaux spent years drilling into him as a young boy.  Taking up Ancuru – The Sword of Bright Magic – he reopened his wound allowing fresh blood to flow.  Moving from stone to stone he alternated allowing seven then thirteen then one drop or drops of blood to land upon each of the thirteen ward stones, ending with seven upon the last.

Taking his place in the self-same spot where raw magic had snatched him up and carried him hence during his Claiming to free Ancuru from the main Stone of Avalon – and feeling a heady sense of dejavu – Hadrian sliced open his off-hand and then clasped both hands around the hilt, allowing his blood to flow freely down the weapon-cum-magical focus and onto the Stone beneath.

Thankfully with his late teens came another growth spurt and his didn’t have to try and levitate himself to complete the feat.

All but the last two steps taken, Hadrian began to chant in the _Olde Language_ that of Magic itself:

_“Guiding spirits I ask your charity,_

_Lend me your focus and clarity,_

_Lead me to the home I cannot find,_

_Restore that and my peace of mind._

_Power of the bloodlines rise_

_Course unseen across the skies_

_Come to me who call you mine_

_Come to we who would be thine._

_Blood to blood, I summon thee_

_Blood to blood, surrender me._

_Blood to blood, safety thine_

_Blood to blood, home we find.”_

Severus withheld a gasp as he heard his liege offer himself up as surety to the ancient magic of his bloodlines to power the spell.

A gasp that he gave voice to when he translated the next section of Hadrian’s spellwork.

_“Whither My Love_

_Wherever You Be_

_Through Time_

_And Space_

_Take My Heart_

_Nearer To Thee._

_We call upon the starry ways,_

_And Our Mother who guides but may not stay._

_We seek those of divinity,_

_To separate from and set Her free.”_

Hadrian’s voice nearly broke as he chanted the verse to set Avalon apart from the Great Mother and felt a wave of peace sooth the destroying wrenching he felt deep in his soul upon his words.  She was at peace with this course.  So She would have him be.

_“Guiding Sun I ask your charity,_

_Lend me your power and clarity,_

_Lead us to the home we cannot find,_

_Restore that and our peace of mind._

_Power of the bloodlines rise_

_Course unseen across the skies_

_Come to me who call you mine_

_Come to we who would be thine._

_Blood to blood, I summon thee_

_Blood to blood, surrender me._

_Blood to blood, safety thine_

_Blood to blood, home we find.”_

As the last word left his lips, Hadrian stabbed down with the blade of Ancuru now thoroughly coated and slick with his life-blood into the very heart of the center wardstone.

A resounding _Crack!_ Sounded through the warding chamber as a flash of lightening slammed into the King now kneeling in the broken shards of the ancient diamond monolith, hands yet locked firmly around the Stygian steel hilt and blade, gleamed wet and red with his blood.

…

When asked, many years hence, once the scars of tearing himself and his people forcefully asunder from their Great Mother has healed, what happened after the Stone broke and he did his impression of being a lightening rod, Hadrian never knew quite how to answer.

Often, he went with the easy answer: he didn’t know, he wasn’t aware, go bother Lord Prince/Severus/Professor Prince.

But every now and then a person – usually with soulful eyes that knew him better than most would or could ever claim the like of – would ask.

And Hadrian would always tell them the truth.

There was only one thing he ever remembered between the slick of his blood, the pounding of his heart as it poured out his life-blood, the crack of the Stone sundering, and the flash of light: a whisper.

It wasn’t deep within him as his communion with his Great Mother once was.

Nor was it the sharp and bright energy of his new home, a younger and at the same time somehow _older_ , planet hidden deep within their self-same galaxy.

It was odd and different and startling.

But at the same time so, so very familiar.

Like the shadow of a dream he couldn’t quite remember.

 _.…Thank you, my Blessed Child.  For your mercy, you shall know peace.  For your sacrifice, you shall know safety.  And for your ruthlessness, to do what must be done, you_ shall _know love.  As I will it so mote it be…._

…

Lord Severus Prince, formerly known as Severus Tobias Snape the dungeon bat of Hogwarts, was freaked the fuck out.

There was simply no other way to put it.

To say that Hadrian, his King who while ruthless was fair and while compassionate was just, was normally wise for his years would be accurate.

To say that Hadrian, son of a Marauder and raised in part by two more had gone _way fucking off script_ would also be accurate.

For one, there was never any mention of his King offering up his own life and life-blood as surety for the spell.  It was just supposed to be his own power and magical core he used, not his very life to make the damned thing work.

Cursing under his breath he cast a quick _Episkey_ on the wounds that were as yet still sluggishly bleeding before taking his charge’s pulse.

The mutt and his damned flea-bitten wolf would have his hide if they saw their cub now.

Though for the amount that Hadrian bled, there was surprisingly little left around.  Just what had marred his skin and tunic.  All that had coated Ancuru, the heartstone of the chamber, and the very floor had disappeared in the blinding flash.  Handy that.

Severus _despised_ kneeling in blood.

Especially when it came from a creature he actually liked instead of merely tolerated or actively hated.

Not wasting time, the Potions Master cast a spell, banishing several blood and magic replenishing potions into his sovereign’s stomach rather than attempt to convince the still-unconscious form to swallow.

He had a hard enough time getting Hadrian to take his potions when he was awake and aware let alone when he was knocked for six.

The Royal Healer Andromeda Tonks nee Black was going to have his hide, never mind the man’s honorary uncles.

With a swish and a flick of his wand, Severus started levitating the still form from the warding chamber, Ancuru once more in its sheath and placed gently on Hadrian’s chest.  There was nothing more irritating than the sound of that damned thing scrapping along the floor chasing after its master like a puppy.  A common occurrence in the early days of Hadrian acquiring it.  Even a prodigy has issues with remembering little things sometimes.  In fact they might have more issues with those little things than most.

As he stepped out of the heavily protected ward chamber deep within the magical holdfast of Skye Palace, Severus nearly fell to his knees as the familiar and deeply comfortable glow of his magical core _shifted_ , or altered at the very heart of him.  Were he a lesser man or mage he would have done so at the eminently strange and rather painful sensation.  But nothing about Severus Prince was lesser in any way.  And nothing would beggar him to the point of _dropping_ his liege.

The warm, familiar center of his magic change and shifted as he paced steadily through the deep shadows within Skye Palace.  Walls which during most hours of the day simply sparkled or gleamed from the gemstone rives veining them were brightly glowing as he passed.  They too were affected by whatever it was altering him.

By the time he made it to the hidden and concealed entrance into the ward chamber corridor, and thus was able to call a House Elf for assistance with his charge, whatever had begun as he’d left the sanctity of the chamber leveled off though it never left fully, remaining and continuing to change him in much smaller fractions than it had at first.  Sinking into a meditative state as a discomfited Elf popped the King of Avalon away – Severus thought idly that whatever strange magic was affecting him and the Palace was also working away at _everything_ magical – he studied the alterations to himself from behind his impenetrable Occlumency barriers.  Where before it had been a tightly wound and disclipined ball of softly glowing light in shades of icy green and grey, now it was…changed.  Different.

Brighter, for lack of another word.

Or perhaps _sharper_ would be a better term.

More like that of a warrior-mage such as a Master Auror than a scholarly one such as the Potions Master.

For all his skill and ease with offensive magics and the Dark Arts, Severus was and has always been a researchers and inventor at heart with the magical core to match.

It was that heart of who he was that almost couldn’t restrain himself from attempting Legilimancy upon his King…for purely scientific reasons, of course.

If _his_ core had changed by the magics Hadrian had wrought, becoming more in-line with a wilder form of magics than his disciplined studies, what might it have done to Hadrian’s massive core?  For all that Hadrian had applied himself to multiple Masteries in rigid subjects such as Magical Law and Finance, he was yet a warrior-mage, much like those of olde.  His instances on delving deeply into the studies of Ritual and Blood Magics as well as Defense and the Dark Arts were proof enough of that if his skill with his sword Ancuru wasn’t telling on its own.

Perhaps…

Perhaps that was why the Great Mother had chosen to reveal her state to the King in the first place.

The King of Avalon was a vastly different breed of mage than any other alive.

Even those who were closest to him didn’t match him in full though some did in part.

His King’s ruthlessness had definitely been acquired from his tutelage under the brothers Holmes while his savagery in combat was much the product of lessons from the damned mutt and wolf with shades of his Highlander steward Lord Wallace.

Severus shook his head, refocusing his thoughts to his original musing.

If Hadrian’s Ritual had set in motion events to alter a scholar’s core into that closer to a warrior…what might it do to one who was very much a warrior to begin with?

…

Hadrian regained consciousness with his usual grace and eloquence.

“Ow.”

He muttered sitting up and holding one palm to his aching head, eyeing his audience.  Severus must have moved him from the warding chamber as he recognized the furnishing from his private bedchamber.

The Potions Master was at hand, as was his Healer and cousin Andromeda.  Gawain, his steward was standing alongside his foster-brothers Sherlock and Mycroft while John was taking his pulse, unable to let go of his well-trained inclinations.  Sirius and Remus were present as well, watching him with more anxiety than the others as they tended to do.

All in all…a normal greeting for Hadrian after one of his “mishaps.”

“Did it work?”  Was the very next thing out of his mouth followed by: “Anyone get the license of that tank?  Can I get a headache reliever before me head tumbles right off?”

Chuckles abounded as Andromeda hissed lightly under her breath and gave him a narrowed-eyed glare.

“You’re dangerously low on blood, your Grace.”  Andromeda didn’t believe in using informal forms of address except in strict privacy.  She _is_ a daughter of House Black after all.  “More so than was anticipated.”

Severus put it better.

“Of course you have a headache, you menace.”  The man was all but hissing himself.  “Considering I saw _exactly_ what happened done in that chamber I’m surprised you’ve a head left _at all_ , dunderheaded that it might be.”

A vial was thrust under his nose and Hadrian glumped it down without ado before asking again.

“Did it _work_?”

“We’re not sure, Harry.”  Remus soothed him as was his way.  His wolf was acting strange to say the least ever since they felt the first stirrings of the Ritual taking hold.  “You tightened all of the wards surrounding all of your holdings to the point where we can’t even see beyond the boundaries.  Nor can we leave to go investigate.”

“Something did happen.”  Sirius added.  “All of us with a functioning core felt a, well, a _shift_.”

“Hmm.”  Hadrian hummed under his breath.  He’d forgotten about what he’d done with the wards.  The last thing he’d wanted was for the Ritual to take them somewhere with a current populace and have a dragon swoop down on them.  All inhabitants of his holdings were locked down until an investigation into their current situation was conducted.

But there was another way to tell _without_ leaving the secure zones.

One that he was honestly surprised none of them had tried already.

“ _Tempus locus colloco condicio.”_ He intoned, holding his hands out before him.

It was Remus’s insistence as his primacy magical tutor when he was young that he was more than capable of controlled, wandless magic.  His theory was that giving a wand to a child already capable of large-scale or frequent wandless magic was both crippling to their magical potential and well, _lazy_ on the part of the parents and instructors.  A theory that seemed to bear fruit in his cub, as Hadrian had never needed a focus for most magics and those that required one were rituals that needed a focus other than a wand anyway for best results.

The spell he used wasn’t particularly difficult or powerful but neither was it common.  It was pretty rare after all that a mage would be thrown into a situation where he knew neither the date nor time, needed to establish where exactly he was in the greater scheme of things, as well as the condition of said location.  That said, it was perfect for the current situation.

Glowing script rose above his hands and Hadrian read it out as it did so, brows arching at certain spaces.

_Star Date: 22.06.2250_

_1600 Septhours_

_68 Mintues_

_89 Seconds_

“Septhour?”  John murmured to himself only to have Sherlock whisper in his ear as Hadrian anchored the date and time above his head as to discover what exactly timekeeping looked like in the place and _time_ they’d found themselves.

“It appears to be a seventy-minute hour, with ninety-second minutes.”  Sherlock was nearly rubbing his hands together in glee.  _2250_.  The year according to the calendrical “star date” was 2250.  They were in the future!  Oh the science to be done and had!

His brother continued, anchoring different portions of the spell above his seated position in the center of his massive bed and setting them to orbit him so that different people could see the results for themselves.

The spell even illustrated _where, exactly_ they’d found themselves.

_Galaxy: Milky Way_

Andromeda let out a sigh of relief.  That at least was familiar.  She didn’t know how she would’ve coped if they’d found themselves in the galaxy she was named for, for example.  At least there was some semblance of _home_ in this new state of things.

_Quadrant: Alpha_

_System: Claimed Binary System New Avalon_

_Class M Planet: Camelot_

_Territory: Empire of Avalon_

_City: Avalon City_

_Location: Skye Palace – King’s Quarters – Bedchamber_

That was a lot of information filled with designations none of them were familiar with.

Well…most of them.

“Alpha quadrant is the same quarter of the galaxy that houses Earth.”  Sherlock mused.

Because as always…there was Sherlock and the Blacks to the rescue when it came to astronomy.

“Binary system.”  Sirius studied the glowing and hovering diagram of the system they were to call home.  “Two suns.”  He explained at the _look_ from Severus.  Reaching out with one hand he made the system diagram twist and turn and progress through what was approximately one week.  “With the location of,” he chuckled to himself at the name.  Hadrian’s Ritual was certainly thorough.  “Camelot, we’ll get one night per week, the rest of the time the planet is in full sunlight.”

Andromeda was busy examining the model of the galaxy and specifically Alpha quadrant with Sherlock at her side while John and Mycroft were studying the planetary model itself along with Gawain and Severus.  Remus was at his mate’s side, watching him work with the system model.

The spell continued.

_Atmosphere: Class M degree 3.  Capable of supporting carbon life-forms._

_Geography: Approximately Sixty Percent water, various land masses._

_Flora: Various, Many_

_Fauna: Various, Many_

_Population: Settled by Tovenaar (not yet permanent)_

_Suns: Two_

_Moons: Three_

_Other Planets in System: 11, various classes, none Class M_

_Current Status: Discovered by United Federation of Planets, unexplored._

They waited for several long beats before going back to their own studies.  The spell was finished with its report.

Sirius, since he’d started first continued.

“The three moons will allow respite from the heat of the suns but not complete darkness.  None of the other planets in the system that I can see are in anyway like Earth but there are several like Saturn or are similar to planets in our home system.”

“Then Class ‘M’ must mean Earth-like.”  Hadrian extrapolated before tucking into the meal brought by a House Elf under the gimlet stare of Andromeda.  “The degree mentioned could mean how well life could thrive on a given Earth-like planet.  Various and many flora and fauna with atmosphere close to Earth’s would point to the third degree being very-capable of supporting humanoid lifeforms.”

“Sound deductions.”  Sherlock nodded as he listened with half an ear, being more focused on the wider picture forming of the Alpha quadrant.  “If my calculations are correct,” he motioned to the galaxy model.  “We’re approximately one-hundred lightyears from Earth.”

Hadrian and Sirius both let out a soundless whistle.

“Well,” John smirked wryly.  “I’d say were definitely not in Kansas any more Toto.”


	4. Camelot

** Harder Choices **

_Author’s Note: Now we’re getting to the good stuff.  This chapter will mostly alternate between what’s going on with various characters.  So you’ll see young Jim and Spock, our magicals settling into their new home, star fleet, etc.  Just snippets really to move the timeline along without skipping a dozen years of worldbuilding completely._

**Chapter Three: Camelot**

_Skye Palace, 2250_

“Your Grace,” McG, Hadrian’s personal guard and Captain of the Avalon Guardsmen called into the King’s private study.  “Lord Prewitt is back from his scouting mission and is ready to report.

Hadrian’s private study was a balance between the overt elegance of his formal office in the Royal Wing of Skye Palace and the lived-in clutter and book-bedecked walls of his personal study in the King’s Tower.  Before his coronation he’d had just the two: office and study.  Then with the formation of the Privy Council and the need to see to certain business without the watching-eyes of the Royal wing but not trusting most visitors enough to allow them into his Tower, Hadrian made a compromise and had his Head Chatelaine Lady Augusta designate and decorate a private study.

One such person who would require a meeting in the new location was Charlie Weasley-Prewitt, Lord Prewitt.

His grandfather, Lord Septimus Weasley, had been a stern and exacting man.  Due to the rituals of inheritance for the Weasley House, Septimus was able to skip his own children and that of his brothers when he found all of them unsuitable for the Lordship.  In his old age, long past when all had thought he would ever deign to name an Heir for either the Weasley or Prewitt Lordships, the latter of which he held in trust for one of Molly’s children, two of his youngest son’s boys found favor in his eyes.  The old dragon had named William his Heir and Charles as Heir Prewitt before taking them well in hand and seeing to their educations as pureblood Heirs of titled Houses.

Molly Weasley nee Prewitt wasn’t pleased to say the least when her “darling Percy” wasn’t chosen instead of her rebellious oldest son or her creature-made second born.

It was a sad truth that none of her children save her daughter ever came close to being as beloved by their mother as her third-born child.

Of the seven Weasley brood and their parents only the two eldest and the twins had been chosen to join Hadrian and the others in finding and founding their new home.  As with many of his remaining people, the four men had taken the first week after the Ritual to mourn for their lost loved ones.  It was one thing to know in a distant way that those you love will eventually pass away without you, it was another for it to happen in a matter of moments.

As soon as Hadrian had cast his complex _tempus_ after regaining consciousness, he’d set in motion plans for a time of official mourning and remembrance for all those they’d been forced by circumstances and his heartbreaking decision to leave behind them.

One of the first building projects they were to undertake once the scouts such as were making their way into his study were finished mapping the Camelot terrain was a memorial site.

Five-hundred million.

That was the number.

The weight of the hardest choice he’d had to make in his life.

He’d sacrificed the magic of half a billion magical people plus ten-times that number in magical creatures and beings to save the Earth Herself.

Many of those people were _his_ people.

Hadrian had heard Mycroft and Sherlock speculating that of those left behind who didn’t die in the intervening years before the timer he’d placed on the Curse ran out, at least a portion wouldn’t be able to survive having their magic slowly siphoned away and the magical gene destroyed in their DNA.

They didn’t tell him that, nor had they needed to.

He already knew.

Knew that though he already had blood on his hands from the War and from decisions he’d made and executions he’d had carried out that it had been magnified a thousand-thousand times over the moment he made the choice to sacrifice the many for a chance to save a few.

There was no way to know _exactly_ how many died from losing their magic.  And that was fine.  His ledger was already dripping enough red without having confirmation of just how severe the death toll had been.

Charlie Weasley-Prewitt and his bonded Viktor Krum strode into the study, bowing the exact amount required for respect before taking seats in front of Hadrian’s desk.  The two adrenaline junkies had noticed each other during a task called the Tri-Wizard Tournament when Charlie, Lord Prewitt, and a Master of Care of Magical Creatures and respected Dragonologist had helped move a trio of dragons to and from one of the Romanian dragon reserves.  Viktor had fought well against his dragon, managing his task without permanent damage to himself for the Hungarian Horntail he faced, gaining Charlie’s attention.

With Charlie’s knowledge of creatures and Viktor’s skills as a former professional Seeker, plus no real fear of death or dismemberment as shown by their careers, they made an excellent pair to head the main scouting team.

Hadrian’s Ritual had set down all of his properties that he’d been able to include in the spell in approximately the same places on their new planet home.

Avalon City was directly overhead of a lateral magical ley-line that according to magical readings completely circled Camelot, much like the Meridian and Equator did on Earth.  There was only a magical north and magical south pole to their new home, it not having a magnetic field in any way similar to Earth and with two suns not having to worry about taking orbits for seasonal effect into too much account.  The gravity was also a touch heavier than Earth, making apparation more difficult than before to the point where only the more magically powerful were capable of it.

The land beneath Avalon City was covered in coniferous forests in shades of greens and – strangely to eyes used to Earth – blues.  Rivers and lakes larger and deeper than anything most had seen before – Loch Ness and the Amazon not withstanding – dotted and streaked through the landscape.  Many animals roamed, some almost familiar and others very, very strange.

Directly to the southeast of where Avalon City hovered was one of the massive rivers which emptied into a saline estuary.  There about a half-mile from the mouth of the river, now dubbed the Tintagal, floated an island which was the new home of the Pendragon Keep.  To the far northwest of Avalon was a mountain range that Remus compared to one he’d seen in the State called the Cascades because of it’s many waterfalls.   One the peak of the highest mountain was Snowdon Castle, the historical seat of the House of Emrys.  Charlie was apparently feeling particularly fanciful when he suggested naming the mountain range “Venus’s Tears” but it stuck nonetheless for the tear-drop shape of the peaks.

A massive gorge five-times the depth and size of anything like it on Earth separated those three sites from everywhere else, isolating them much like the seas and oceans of their former home had done to Britain.

On the far eastern edge of the gorge – which Hadrian dubbed “Curu’s (magic’s) Bane” for it made magical travel over it problematic for a yet unknown reason – Raven’s Nest, the ancient seat of the House of Ravenclaw perched like a massive bird of prey.

Miles and miles away – farther than it had been from England to Russia the original distance between holdings – from Avalon City was the Badger’s Den home of the Hufflepuff seat.  Where on Earth it had been located in the Siberian tundra, Camelot had no similar as far as the scouts could find, with the Den now located of what they _think_ is the far edge of a huge desert.

There was little in the way of extreme biomes all together.

There _were_ differing biomes.

For one thing a massive desert with intriguing caverns on the other side of Venus’s Tears, bordered by the western-most point of Curu’s Bane.  Charlie very much wanted to set up a dragon reserve on the desert-side of the mountains.  All of the scouts were wary of venturing too far into the massive beast of a plain however.

It reminded Hadrian of Mars and so he named it.

The Mars Fields – a desert the size of the United States was born with the Den on the far side of it and the Tears on the near side – they think.

“What did you discover in your wanderings this time, gentlemen?”  Hadrian asked after the pleasantries were finished.

“We finally made contact with some of the scouts from the other holdings.”  Charlie reported with carefully-masked excitement.

There were several holdings Hadrian had managed to connect to Avalon City in his Ritual.

Snowdon Castle, Pendragon Keep, Raven’s Nest, and Badger’s Den were four.  The others they hadn’t been able to make physical contact with yet though they were in contact through magical means.  The Ritual approximated where the holdings should be placed on Camelot.  But traveling a hundred light-years through the galaxy _and_ two hundred and fifty years through time had created one hell of a margin for error.

Morgana Magnus – the Le Fey estate, Slytherin Fen, Castle Black, and Peverell Manor were all still unaccounted for.  The bones and stones of Gryffindor Keep had been used in the construction of Hogwarts and Hadrian wasn’t willing to stop magical children from getting an education while they could.  Though it was very tempting.

From what they’d been told through the two-way mirrors with the four “missing” estates, M.M. was in some kind of massive grassy plain, the Fen was in a rainforest that made the Amazon look tame (fitting since the Fen was originally in the Indian rainforest), Castle Black was in a different mountain range than Snowdon Castle, and Peverell Manor in another hilly forest zone.

One thing they _did_ know was that there was little in the way of seas or oceans blocking them.  On the far edges of the land mass they’d found such things such as the shoreline Pendragon Keep’s new island home was near, but the only things separating various climate zones and biomes were mountain ranges and really, really big rivers.

“Indeed?”  Hadrian arched a brow.  “Good news?”

“Yes,” Viktor nodded his head, having had several days to think over the news as he and his husband led the way back to Avalon City for their group.  “Very good.  One week’s travel west-to-east by broom from the Den brings you from the flat grass plains that both the Den and Morgana Magnus are on to a set of foothills.  From there is another mountain range much bigger than the Tears.  The scouts were from both the Den and Morgana Magnus, turns out those two holdings are about two weeks from each other but share the same plains with the Den on the far eastern side.”

“We think the foothills might be the ones the Manor are located in and the mountains Castle Black but we still can’t find the Fen.”  Charlie added.

“Well.”  Hadrian chuckled.  “We’re only missing three out of nine sites now.  At least that’s something.”

“Maybe the Bane _ate_ one.”  Viktor speculated wryly.  “I wouldn’t put it passed the damned thing.”

“Now there’s a thought.”  Hadrian mused to himself.  “Would’ve made getting rid of Voldemort easier: just chuck him into the Bane and see if he could magic his way out of _that_.  Wanker.”

…

_The Fen, depths of Curu’s Bane, 2252_

“About fucking _time!_ ”  Rhys Wallace, childhood friend of Hadrian, younger son of Lord Wallace and younger brother of David, Heir Wallace, shouted at his clearly-apologetic brother and their Royal friend.  “Do you _know_ how fucking _hard_ it is to get laid when you’re surrounded by nothing but science geeks and history buffs?  Well, do you?”

Hadrian and David studiously avoided looking at each other as Rhys continued to rant.

It had been a hard two years as they struggled to acclimate to this new planet, and the newness of their magical cores that came with it.

Before Hadrian’s Ritual, eight members of Hadrian’s most trusted friends and advisors had been selected to be in charge of each of the outlying holdfasts.

David had been located relatively quickly at his post of Pendragon’s Keep.

Rhys on the other hand…

Not so much.

It took searching almost constantly for a year and a half to map their new home of Camelot completely.  Panic had set in when they’d discovered that every holding was accounted for – except for the wild rainforest that was the new home of the Fen.  Rhys’ post had been the furthest flung of all the original holdings, and his charming manner deemed the best to deal with the various mundane scientists and magical herbologists who had made up the majority of those stationed in the Fen.

Except for a selection of soldiers, guards, and support staff, Rhys who even to his very-indulgent father was a known man-whore, had been surrounded entirely by people who would rather study their new habitat than shag him.

It was nothing second to hell for the playboy.

“Are you _laughing?_   Fucking wankers, you _are_!”

“Rhys…”  Hadrian warned him narrowing his eyes when he saw a wand start to point at them.  “Put the wand down…”

David couldn’t help it and burst out laughing again at the pout on his younger brother’s face.

“How,” he asked between guffaws.  “Were we supposed to _know_ that there was a bloody rainforest inside the Bane?  We stay away from the fucking thing as much as we can.”

“That is _beside_ that point.”  Rhys hissed as his brother.  The wanker was _still laughing at him_.  “We ran out of firewhiskey six months ago.  _Six months_!  With no alcohol and no sex you bastard.  While you two were nice and comfy with your places topside and _shagging_ whoever took your fancy!”

To be honest…they kinda deserved those hexes they got when the two of them couldn’t control themselves and burst once more into laughter.

Though on Hadrian’s part it was mostly relief.

His people – hexing prats and all – were whole again.

…

_Vulcan, 2245_

“What is the square root of 2,396,304?” asked a computer voice.

“One thousand five hundred forty eight.” answered a child with human eyes and pointed ears.

“Correct. What is the central assumption of Quantum Cosmology?”

“Everything that can happen does happen, in equal and parallel universes.”

“Correct. Identify the 20th century earth composers of the following musical progression.”

The bowl filled with the sound of the music and it didn’t take him long to answer.

“Paul McCartney and John Lennon.”

“Correct.”

Later that day, after a shaming display of wild _humanistic_ emotion, Spock stared down at the ground as he waited for his father, his knuckles bruised.

Sarek stood there, stoically looking down at his oldest son.

“I did not mean to create conflict between you and mother.” apologized the child.

Sarek’s face softened a little at that and he took a seat in the bench beside him.

“In marriage, conflict is…”

“…constant?”

“Natural.” the man paused for a moment. “Emotions run deep within our race. In many ways, more deeply than in humans. Long ago, they nearly destroyed us… that is why we followed the teachings of Surak. Now you must choose.”

“Between you and mother?” asked the child trying to hide his worry.

“Never, my son.” appeased the Vulcan. “But you may choose the ethic of logic. Logic offers a serenity humans seldom experience. The control of feelings… so that they do not control you.”

…

_Vulcan, several years later_

Spock stood in the Council Chamber of the Vulcan Science Academy. It was a beautiful yet imposing place, with his high ceilings, but the man stood straight and calm in front of the Vulcan High Council.

His father was among them, seated beside the Science Minister that presided the Council that day.

“You have surpassed the expectations of your instructors. Your final record is flawless. With one exception. I see you have applied to Starfleet as well.” said the Minister of Science.

“It was logical to cultivate multiple options.” replied Spock trying not to show the real reason for it, that he yet felt the flail of condemnation from his own people because of his heritage.

“Logical but unnecessary.” cut the Vulcan raising his voice a bit. “You’re hereby accepted to the Vulcan Science Academy. It is truly remarkable, Spock, that you have achieved so much despite your disadvantage. Welcome to the Academy.”

Spock’s face remained impassive, though his eyes shined with something different. The Council members stood up, all looking at him, and the half Vulcan decided to speak, unsettled by the leader’s words.

“If you would clarify, Minister… what ‘disadvantage’ are you referring to?”

“… you human mother, of course.” clarified the Minister as if that were obvious.

Spock’s face changed minutely at the mention of his mother and he gazed at his father. The Vulcan gazed back at him impassively, but there seemed to be a warning in his eyes, as if they commanded him to stay calm.

Spock struggled with his emotions and his logic. His mother’s last words as he tried to decide whether to not to undergo Kolin’ar and purge all emotion resonated in his head. He realized then that he wanted to experience everything that life had to offer him. He realized that he didn’t want to be like the Council, looking down on everyone that was different, that had looked down upon _him_ and his very existence all of his life.

So, for the first time in his life, he chose to follow his emotions instead of his logic. This wasn’t the life he wanted. This was the life his father wanted for him.  The life that his father had led up until the day he met a human woman named Amanda.

“Council, ministers, I must decline.”

Everyone stopped at his words and the Minister regarded him coldly.

“No Vulcan has ever declined admission to this Academy.”

“Then, as I am half human, you record remains untarnished.” replied Spock containing a smirk.

“Spock. You have made a commitment to honor the Vulcan way…”  Sarek’s voice was nearly chiding.

“At the moment, father, I can think of no greater way to honor our race than to attend Starfleet as its first Vulcan.” said the half Vulcan raising his chin a bit.

“Why did you come before this Council today? Was it to satisfy your emotional need to rebel?” asked the Minister.

“I came with the intention of enrolling as my father wished. However, you ‘insight’ has convinced me otherwise. Therefore, the only emotion I wish to convey is gratitude. Thank you, Ministers, for your consideration. Live long and prosper.”

The last two sentences were said with sarcasm dripping from every word and defiance clear in his eyes for his disappointed father to see. Then, Spock turned to the side and exited the Council Chamber.

…

_Camelot, Skye Palace, King’s Chambers, 2254_

Hadrian slipped quietly from his bed, leaving his companions undisturbed.

He smiled softly to himself.  He’d certainly given leaving them exhausted his all the previous evening.  There had been a planet-wide celebration of the fourth year of their colonization yesterday and the three of them had slipped away from the festivities to celebrate more…privately.

Tavi and Rhys had lavished him and each other with their attentions but the more time passes the more Hadrian can see the discontent in their eyes.

They wanted more.

They _deserved_ more from their friend than just a friendly, if passionate, shag when the mood strikes him.

But Hadrian was as hesitant as ever to put a label on what they had, though it had been a consistent…arrangement for months now.

Neither of them were one of his mates.

“Can’t sleep?”

Hadrian concealed a wince before turning around to face the shadows in his private study.  The paperwork he’d decided to focus on to help him sleep had been left there rather than in his personal study in the Tower.  As was his way when the Palace was quiet he’d simply popped to the other room using apparation.

Normally no one was around to notice.

But apparently he wasn’t the only way suffering from insomnia this night.

Bad fucking luck that the other person affected with sleeplessness happened to be the father of one of the men currently worn out in his bed.

“Hmm.”  Hadrian nodded at Severus’s seat figure before the low-burning fireplace.

The Potions Master studied his liege carefully.

He wasn’t happy about the state of affairs between his son and Heir and the monarch.  That didn’t blind him from the state of the man in question.

“What troubles, your Grace?”

Hadrian sighed, shaking his head before slumping down in his chair.

“I still haven’t recovered, Sev.”  Hadrian lifted his head and pinned the dark-eyed gaze with his own burning emerald eyes.  “From the Ritual.  It’s been four years and I remain…diminished.”

Severus sucked in a startled breath, quickly flicking his wand in a series of movements designed for diagnostics.

Reading the results from the parchment conjured by the spell, he gasped, the scroll falling to the ground in a clatter.

“Your bloodline curse from the Pendragons has activated.”  Severus intoned gravely.  “The mating imperative.  You remember what you were taught from the Pendragon grimoire?”

Did he ever.

“Mating imperative.”  He answered stonily.  “Mates.  It strikes every Pendragon a different way with a different requirement to be appeased before it will release its grasp.  Or it’ll kill me.”

“Yes.”  Severus nodded slowly.  “And it had activated fully in you, your Grace.  If you do not find your required mates, the _full complement_ of required mates by your seventh decade you’ll die.  As things stand, you’ll not start recovering your magics fully until you’ve bonded _at least_ one of your required mates.”

“What’s the full complement again?”  Hadrian asked quietly, thinking to himself aloud.  “Soul, magic, mind, heart, body/blood?”

“Mmm.”  Severus hummed, picking the scroll back up and scanning it some more.  “If I were you young King, I’d start socializing with those _other_ than my son and the Council.”

…

_Kansas, Earth, 2255_

Captain Christopher Pike entered a bar just in time to see a fight break out. A blond not older than twenty two and dressed as a civi was fighting against four Starfleet cadets.

Pike had to admit the guy had balls and was a good fighter, as he managed to hold his own for a little while even though he was obviously inebriated.

However, soon the one that had started the fight pinned him to a table and started to punch him in the face.

“Stop it! Stop t, all of you! Enough! Guys, he’s had enough!” shouted a dark skinned woman dressed in a cadet uniform.

Having seen enough, Pike intervened whistling loudly.

Every one turned to look at the man that had just recently turned forty one and the cadets stood with their backs straight at the sight of his black captain uniform.

“Outside. All of you. Now!”  Ordered the Starfleet Captain looking hard at them

“Yes, sir.”  Nodded the one that had been punching the cocky kid.

“You all right, son?”

“You can whistle really loud, you know that?”

Christopher simply look amused and hauled James Tiberius Kirk up off the grungy table.

Later that same evening, Christopher sat in a chair in front of the kid, a pair of glasses in front of them.

“You know, I couldn't believe it when the bartender told me who you are.”  The Captain said after seeing the blond drink and tilting his head to the side.

“Who am I, Captain Pike?”  The kid asked with a sarcastic little smirk as if humoring him.

“Your father's son.”

“Can I get another one?”  Jim asked to the bartender showing his empty glass.

“For my dissertation, I was assigned the USS Kelvin. Something I admired about your dad, he didn't believe in no-win scenarios,” said Pike.

“Sure learned his lesson.”

“Well, it depends on how you define winning. You're here, aren't you?”  Pike shot back, holding onto his patience with both hands.

“Thanks.” Muttered Kirk when the bartender gave him a new bottle of whatever beverage he was drinking.

“You know, that instinct to leap without looking, that was his nature too, and in my opinion, it's something Starfleet's lost.”

“Why are you talking to me, man?”  Jim asked, clearly reaching the end of his rope.  “I’m a mechanic from the middle of nowhere Kansas with ‘authority issues’.  Not exactly a shining beacon of mankind.”

“'Cause I looked up your file while you were drooling on the floor. Your aptitude tests are off the charts, so what is it? You like being the only genius-level repeat offender in the Midwest?”

“Maybe I love it.”  Jim rolled his eyes, so _done_ with talking about his ‘wasted potential.’

“Look, so your dad dies. You can settle for less than an ordinary life. Or do you feel like you were meant for something better? Something special?  Enlist in Starfleet.”

“Enli-” the kid laughed incredulously. “You guys must be way down in your recruiting quota for the month.”

“If you're half the man your father was, Kirk, Starfleet could do with someone like you.”

Jim opened his mouth to spout something that would no-doubt aggravated Pike’s rapidly diminishing patience but Chris rolled right over him.

“You could be an officer in four years. You could have your own ship in eight. You understand what the Federation is, don't you? It's important. It's a peacekeeping and humanitarian armada.” continued Pike.

“We done?”

“I'm done.” said the Captain frowning in resignation and getting up from his seat while the brat simply took a sip of his drink. “Riverside Shipyard. The shuttle for new recruits leaves tomorrow oh-eight hundred.”

Kirk didn’t even blink at the information, lifting his already half-finished beer glass in a cheer.

“You know, your father was Captain of a Starship for twelve minutes. He saved eight hundred lives, including your mother's. And yours. I dare you to do better.”

With that said, Pike left a little replica of a Starship on the table and walked out, leaving Jim with his thoughts and his drink.                                                

Once outside, Pike stopped and turned to look at his companion.

The next day, Pike stood outside a shuttle watching closely as the cadets loaded in. Some of them were new recruits while some others had just been on a shore leave.

“Anyone else?”  Asked one of the dock workers.

Pike sighed, shaking his head.  He’d really thought he’d had Kirk pegged.

“Guess not.”

The words had just left his mouth when they heard the roar of a motorcycle’s motor.  As it moved closer, kicking up dust, Pike spotted a very familiar-looking form astride the beast of a machine.

The blond stopped the bike that had attracted a great deal attention from the workers of the shipyard.

“Nice ride, man.” said an engineer.

“Live it up.” muttered Kirk throwing the keys at the startled guy and walking towards their shuttle.

“Four years? I’ll do it in three.” Jim smirked cockily before entering the shuttle.

Pike smiled slightly at that and gave the go-ahead for launch.

“This is Captain Pike. We've been cleared for take-off.”  Announced Pike’s voice through the comm.

“I may throw up on you.” said the guy on Kirk’s left.  He’d made one hell of a ruckus as the security forces got him loaded in.

“I think these things are pretty safe.”  Replied Jim taking pity on the man and trying to calm him down – to save his jacket if nothing else.

“Don't pander to me, kid. One tiny crack in the hull and our blood boils in thirteen seconds. A solar flare might pop up and cook us in our seats. And wait 'til your sitting pretty with a case of Andorian shingles. See if you're still so relaxed when your eyeballs are bleeding. Space is disease and danger, wrapped in darkness and silence.”  The doctor ranted, a wild look in his eye.

“Well, I hate to break this to you, but Starfleet operates in space.”

“Yeah, well, got nowhere else to go. The ex-wife took the whole damn planet in the divorce. All I've got left is my bones.”

The doctor took a little bottle out of his jacket, presumably containing a stiff drink, and took a gulp of the liquid before offering it to his new companion.  Kirk smirked and accepted it.

“Jim Kirk.” He introduced himself lifting the bottle in salute before drinking from it.

“McCoy, Leonard McCoy.”

…

 


	5. Phantom Call

** Harder Choices **

**Chapter Four: Phantom Call**

_Camelot, Border of Emrys Province and the Mars Fields desert, The Dragonhold_

_Monsoon Season, 2255_

Charlie, Head of House Prewitt, friend of the King and Lord of the Dragonhold, stared out in worry from the watchtower of the preserve.

His friend and King had approved the building of the Dragonhold, the first magical preserve on Camelot two years before.  It would have been done sooner but the King had been firm on not spending resources with expansion until the planet was mapped by their cartographers and the mysterious location of the Slytherin Fen was found.  Progress was also delayed by Hadrian wanting Charlie to oversee the building himself with his older brother and Head of House Weasley supervising the warding team.  Both them spent the first two years on their new home busy with either scouting the planet and cataloging its flora and fauna (Charlie) or adapting the ward structures of their holdings to work more efficiently in conjunction with the wilder magics of Camelot (Bill).

However no one had been more surprised than Charlie upon discovering that Hadrian would be coming to stay at the Dragonhold for a time.

In the two years it had been complete, Hadrian had only visited during the christening of the preserve.

It wasn’t uncommon for the King to visit one of the holdings – not at all.  He’d always made it a habit to visit at least for a day or two, each of his properties every year back on Earth.  But for him to come and _stay_?

That was new.

The _only_ holding Hadrian _ever_ spent more than a week at was Skye Palace in Avalon City.

Not even the Royal Retreats (a.k.a. island paradises) of old Earth saw him stay longer.

When questioned about taking an actual vacation, he’d always, _always_ laughed.  He was a King, he’d say.  One of a vast and complex Empire.  He simply didn’t have the _time_ to take a vacation.  He would do it when things slowed down.

To be fair…

That last excuse was more valid than most.

For nearly his entire reign, Hadrian had been dealing with one crises on top of another.  Corruption in the Ministries of the countries under his rule.  Dumbledore trying to manipulate him into becoming a martyr.  Voldemort after his head.  Dumbledore after his fame and money.

And then the War ended.

For the average witch or wizard it was a time of celebration.

The terror was over, life could resume a semblance of normalcy.

But not for Hadrian, oh no.

In the wake of what should have been a great victory (both graduating from his Masteries and defeating Voldemort) the King of Avalon was confronted with a much bigger and more complex problem in the decline of the Great Mother.

And that too, passed.

But not without taking its pound of flesh from Charlie’s friend.

They’d met at the same time as Charlie met his now-bonded Viktor.  Hadrian had both wanted to see the dragons and get a feel for them and the inherent magics that swam in the very blood and bone of the great creatures.  He’d also wanted to meet Charlie, Lord Prewitt.

Charlie remember Hadrian being fascinated by the thought of a Lord being a dragonologist as well.

Especially one without an Heir to continue the Line in case of death or sterility from a stray blast of flame.

It was a freedom Hadrian had never expected he would know.  And with reason.  While Charlie had always called his reasons for not slowing down or taking a break excuses in reality they were facts of his life.

Running the Earthen Empire of Avalon was a job that required Hadrian’s attention from sun-up to sun-down with little reprieve.

But then…

What was a tragedy and challenge to most was almost a blessing for Hadrian – as far as his work load goes.

Whereas before the King’s time had been scheduled to within an inch of his life, now that the magical schools – primary, secondary, and mastery – were up and running at Badger’s Den (it was originally planned for Raven’s Nest or the Fen but Hadrian didn’t want children of _any_ age attending a boarding school near Curu’s Bane let alone in its depths), the holdfasts were all supplied and functioning on a mixture of sustenance from native flora and fauna and that they’d brought from old Earth, and the Council and Guard were handling the nascent governing body they’d created; Hadrian had found himself, well…bored.

With a much smaller population – and smaller government – there was much less _work_ for him to shoulder.

And with being isolated there were no ambassadors to entertain or dignitaries to dine with or treaties to create or uphold.

Hadrian for once in his life had _time_.

It was a heady feeling for Charlie’s friend, one he was slowly coming accustomed to.

The King checked back in with Skye Palace and his Privy Council towards the end of each sun-cycle.

Other than that he was free to _play_ – as long as he kept a portion of the Guard with him.

Which was what brought him to the Dragonhold in the first place.

Over the last two and a half years he’d explored much of his new domain.  Delving deep into both the secrets of Camelot, his new home, but also into magics and studies he never had much time for before.  And with his prodigious brain, he did so at the impossible rate those closest to him or who’d ever shared a class with him had come to expect.

A year alone was spent popping between the Fen and Skye Palace as he learned mundane sciences in much finer detail than he had in his formative years.  The now twenty-four year old King had always been interested in them due to his studies with his foster-brother Sherlock and moving planets and time periods had only reinforced that interest.  There was just so much to explore and _learn_ about their new home.  Especially with the way those with a functioning magical core had reacted to it.

Hadrian and the Council had studied the phenomenon, as had the others with the skills to contribute.  They’d found many interesting things about magic and the way it functioned on Camelot but one was very clear: this was no _tame_ planet.  Weaker witches and wizards barely noticed it.  The change in their cores.  But others…for others it was night and day.  As many of the more powerful witches and wizards were all centrally located on Skye Palace it was easy enough to study them.  There was nary a one that one could call “weak” in that group.  Not even the Dowager Longbottom in her advanced age.

There was a wild tinge to their magic now.  Even that of the most peaceful of them such as Lady Lovegood-Longbottom could feel a tangible difference in their spells.  Those like Severus and Hadrian who _weren’t_ so peaceful…well.

Occlumency had become a mandatory study starting in primary school if not earlier at home for a _reason_.

The more powerful one was, the shorter the temper they had, the wilder their magic, and the more powerful their dueling abilities were.

Hadrian tapped Charlie for a visit for that very reason.

Even diminished in his powers – a tightly held secret between himself, Severus, and a few others who needed to know – he was still one of the most dangerous wizards on Camelot.  Hadrian had found that the more the bonded with his new home, the less his bloodline curse affected him – though it never truly released its hold on him – a blessing indeed.

He’d decided to do what everyone had cautioned him against – explore the one remaining mystery of Camelot, the Mars Fields.

Thanks to his year in the Fen and extra scouting teams, they’d finally charted Curu’s Bane to Hadrian’s satisfaction.

The Fields remained unexplored.

There was simply something about it that unsettled most of Hadrian’s people.

Sherlock complained that he was being highly illogical – leaving his duties for an unspecified amount of time to go gallivanting off into an unknown desert.

Severus sneered that he was turning into his father after all.

Siri and Remy didn’t say much of anything.  After all, like most of his more “Gryffindor” ideas, they were coming with him.  They understood.

Hadrian had never really had a chance to discover who “Hadrian” was.

Not since he was fifteen months old.

But now…

His responsibilities were lightened – a state of affairs he couldn’t trust to last forever.

He was still young, if a little weaker than he’d like magically.

And if he stayed any longer with his magic clawing at his insides he’d probably go mad.

Charlie sighed staring out the window at the disappearing backs of the three wizards riding into the desert to find Merlin-knows-what.

If Hadrian hadn’t made him the head of this damned preserve, he’d be right there with them!

…

That night…well, second half of the sun-cycle anyway, when the red sun was hovering high in the sky and the white sun had lowered itself beyond the horizon, Hadrian sat under the black-out overhang that was a necessity on any journey outside of an established residence tending the cooking fire.

One of the first enchantments they put on any new or existing structure on Camelot was an auto-dimming spell on the windows that started following a strict twelve-twelve schedule to allow twelve hours of light in through the windows before gradually dimming over a two hour timespan before blacking out completely.  Then in ten hours after the blackout, the windows started to gradually lighten for two hours, each of the two hour blocks simulating dusk and dawn.  All of the greenhouses were carefully monitored and controlled with similar charms as well as climate-control charms.

A precaution that was very necessary as Hadrian and the Council had drilled caution over trying to experiment with ingesting the native animal and plant life before it had been thoroughly tested.

Nor did they want their new home to suffer like Earth had under the yoke of extinction, excessive harvesting and hunting, and destruction of native life and lands due to agriculture.

With magic and the holdfasts they brought with them, there was really no need for any of those ‘bad habits’ to take place on Camelot.

That said, there was no real harm in the small scouting groups or travelers from a small amount of hunting and gathering while out in the wilds of the lands.

Case in point: the hexalope turning over the spit.  A strange hybrid of a six-legged antelope and a mammalian triceratops, with the attitude to match the extinct Earthen dinosaur, it was extremely common in the grassy plains and hills surrounding the Mars Fields on three sides, the fourth, they’d found, bordered one of the planet’s oceans.  It was good, and no longer strange taste-wise to their palettes that had grown more accustomed to Camelot fare.  Moony especially enjoyed the flavor of the wild-game that was somewhere between elk and moose with an underlying sweetness from feasting on the low-growing berries dubbed _Pandora’s fruit_ due to the fact that while eaten raw they’re very, very poisonous but if cooked thoroughly or consumed by a native animal they become harmless.

In other words with those berries you could get heaven, hell, or nothing at all from consuming them.

Siri flicked a pebble at his godson’s head.  He’d dragged them out here – though he was rather enjoying himself so far – and now it was time for him to come clean as to _why_.  Not that he didn’t always find himself entertained when he tags along on his pup’s adventures, it’s just this one was an undertone to it he wasn’t sure he liked.

“Alright,” Sirius kicked his feet out in front of him and uncorked a bottle of firewhiskey.  Normally this would be the time to get utterly pissed but even with Hadrian’s skills as a Ward Master getting shit-faced in the wild was a bad idea to say the least.  “What the fuck are we doing out here, pup?”

“Nice language Mr. Lord High Justice.”  Remus scolded and kicked out at his long-time lover and bonded.

Sirius just rolled his eyes.  Even though Harry hadn’t been a child for _years_ Moony still treated his cub like a wet-behind-the-ears pup.

“Like you’re one to talk Mr. Lord High _Chancellor_.”

With several original members of his Privy Council remaining on Earth, Hadrian had had to reconfigure it, including Siri and Remy’s promotions.  Neville had taken his hereditary seat as Lord Protector once Remus gave it up for that of the highest position on the Council while David as a Master Auror back on Earth had taken up the mantle of Lord Constable from Sirius when he took Madame Bones’s position as Lord High Justice.

Other newer appointments were Eddard Ollivander as Lord Magister or High Mage, Bill Weasley as Lord Marshall, and the still-empty seat of Lord Ambassador.

Honestly, until the population grows or they make contact with another intelligent, sentient species there was no point in even bothering to appoint a new Lord Ambassador.

And it will probably just be a case of moving someone like Mycroft or Lucius further up the chain and then installing a younger witch or wizard into their seat lower down.

The position of Lord Ambassador was right up there with Lord High Justice, Lord High Chancellor, and Lord High Steward, _kind of a big deal_.

“Guys.”  Hadrian sighed when it seemed like the playful banter was going to devolve into a wrestling match.  _Marauders_ , honestly.

Remus and Sirius shared a covert smile.  Mission accomplished.  It was only one word _thus far_ but it was better than the thick silence Harry’d been carrying around for weeks if not months.

“We’re here because we’ve all felt it calling.”  Hadrian stared off into the distance, his vision hazy.  “There is something out there, in the Mars Fields, and it affects the three of us stronger than any others.  And I think I might know why.”

He pointed at his uncles in turn then gestured to himself.

“Sirius _Black_ : family history of mental instability compounded by a lovely vacation at _Chateau d’Azkaban._   Remus Lupin: afflicted with lycanthrope since age eight.  And then there’s me.”  Hadrian’s smile was bitter.  “The freak among freaks.  Ridiculously over-powered result of some _serious_ inbreeding and lovingly afflicted with a bloodline-curse as a result.  Those are things that make each of us _different_ in fundamental, _biological_ ways than everyone else on this planet.”

The lovers traded a shocked look at the way Hadrian characterized himself but paid strict attention to his words as he continued nonetheless.

They thought his issue with self-image had been dealt with in his mind healing session but Hadrian’s Ritual and the aftermath must have dredged it all up.  Merlin knows having to be responsible for the stripping of magic from his own people which had to have resulted him some deaths wasn’t a great recipe for stable thinking.  Or high self-worth for that matter.

“We’re _wilder_.”  His voice was nearly a whisper.  “Have less inhibitions.  Less restraint.  We’re more like what a humanoid species that was actually _born_ on this planet might have been like.  Look at the animals here, the birds, the blood _fish_.  Even the most innocuous of them has a severe and sometimes savage defense method if not the ability to outright attack.  We’re _not_ tame wizards.  Not a one of us.  And this isn’t anywhere close to a _tame_ planet.”

“What _do_ you think is out there, cub?”  Remus asked cautiously when it seemed like Harry wasn’t going to continue.  He had to admit that there was _some_ merit in what his honorary godson was saying.  Moony has certainly been a lot different ever since the end of the Ritual and arriving here.

Harder to tame.

Potions growing less effective with time.

 _Wilder_.

Hadrian laughed and shook his head, giving a shrug of his shoulders.

“No fucking clue.”  He said with sudden cheeriness.  “But I’m sure as the suns going to enjoy finding out.”

…

_Starfleet Academy, San Francisco, 2256_

Walking into the dorm room at the Academy he shared with Jim, Leonard was tempted to either beat his head against the doorjamb or just beat Jim’s thick skull.

Either one would work.

If he pounded his head hard enough against the carbon-steel doorframe he _might_ be able to render himself temporarily deaf – which was the entire point since his irritation was directly caused by the godawful music pouring from Jim’s PADD.

Late 20th Century Earthen emo-chick-pop-rock.

Phaser him _now._

Of course if he beat Jim’s head in then he could steal the PADD and either destroy it or delete every single track of Jim’s shitty Kansas-boy music collection.

Starting with Alanis Morrisette.

Evil heifer.

And he thought having his wife skin him for everything but his bones – including his job, house, and pretty much _all_ of his home world was bad – that Alanis bitch really, really had relationship issues.

Something told Leo however that relationships – or rather Jim’s six months together with another cadet named Jane or Jasmine or J-something – was the problem.  J-whoever was one the Science path at the Academy.  The _problem_ with that was she was one of those narrow-minded squinty science bitches who didn’t see the value in anything _but science_.

Sure, Leo was a doctor and in the Medical path but he still saw the _value_ the other branches of Starfleet had to offer.

Even the meat-heads in Security had a purpose and skill set to offer Starfleet.

J-bitch however had spent the better part of the last six-months ragging on who was basically Leo’s only close friend about “wasting his potential” – because the kid’s never heard _that_ before – in the Command track.

What added insult to injury for both Leo _and_ Jim was that she did so knowing full-well Jim’s excellent scores in his chosen field.  The cocky little Kansas mechanic had an uncanny instinctive ability as a Captain.  And having dug into his background and studied up on his father and grandfather and so-on, Leo was damned tempted to wager that it was an inborn-genetic-trait.  Every single _damned_ one of them had a history of service either to the Federation, the World government, or their Country as far back as the history goes – which was about two hundred years.

Two hundred years of service and anecdotal evidence to support that Jim had simply been _born_ to Captain a starship.

And if J-twat had her way he would spend his brain and talents wasting away in a lab somewhere squinting over a microscope or staring at a computer screen.

“What happened, Jim?”  Leo asked with a sigh as he brought himself back to the present when his roommate _finally_ turned down Alanis’s wailing.

Jim snorted and brought the bottle back up to his lips, taking a long drink. “It doesn’t matter, Bones. Nothing I do does. Not to anyone.”

“That’s not true at all.”  Leo snorted and rolled his eyes, then diligently pried the bottle from his friend’s grasp.  “You matter to me don’t you and I’m a damn sight better looking and better company than that woman.”

“She’s pregnant, Bones.”  Jim finally admitted sitting up and cradling his head in his hands.  “Carol.”

Oh so that was her name.  Leo was _way_ off.

“Says she doesn’t know if she wants to keep him or not.  Doesn’t want to mess up her career.  And doesn’t want to have anything to do with me either way if I don’t drop the Command track.”

“Well, Christ on a cracker, son.”  Leo dropped down next to his best friend.  “That’s a different kettle of fish.”

“Tell me about it.”  Jim knuckled away a tear furiously.  “She’s talking about killing my kid.  Or keeping him away from me.  Either way.”

“I know you don’t wanna hear this, Jim.”  Leo sighed.  “But if that’s how Carol operates you’re better off without being mixed up with her in the first place.  There’s not a lick of good you can do trying to force yourself to be somethin’ you’re not.  And that’s exactly what she’s pullin’ with that.”

“I know, Bones.”  Jim whispered.  “But it still hurts like a bitch.”

“Well,” Leo drawled in his light Georgia accent.  “She _is_ a bitch.”

Jim snorted a laugh before hiccupping from the tears and booze.  Jesus what a day.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do.”  Leo clapped one hand on his friend’s shoulder, hauling Jim up alongside him.  “You’re gonna sober up and for the love of my sense of smell get cleaned up.  I’m gonna make up a full southern dinner.  Then we’re going to sit down and work out a game plan for if Carol decided to keep the baby.  No matter what _anyone_ says you’ve got rights to the little tyke…if she keeps it.  Hear me?”

“Yeah, Bones.”  Jim smiled up at his friend, deep blue says locking with a pair in comforting dark brown.  “I hear you.”

…

_Camelot, The Mars Fields, 2256_

_Dry Season_

It was the fourth foray Hadrian had led into the Fields with Siri and Remy and they were still coming up empty on whatever it was that was drawing them deeper and deeper into the desert.  The call had gotten to the point that Hadrian had set it up so he could be gone for up to six months in one shot this time.  All this back-and-forth was driving him nuts.

Every single, solitary time they’d had to return to one of the holdings so Hadrian could handle the “business of the realm” the progress they’d made in following the _urge_ disappeared, forcing them to start all over from a different point.

As if whatever was causing the sensation _knew_ and moreover _disapproved_ of his and their outside duties.

He was done with it.

This time they _were_ going to locate the source of the call.

Hadrian simply couldn’t _live_ like this anymore.  After six years on this planet the call was growing unbearable.  Whatever this was, whatever was causing it, it _had_ to stop or change or _something_.  Before it drives him completely _mad_.

…

“Harry?”  Sirius’s voice was pitched low, nearly vicious in tone.

“Yes, Padfoot?”  Was the all-too-innocent response he received from his godson.

They’d spent over a year traversing this damned desert, hopping back and forth from outpost to camp to Avalon in Hadrian’s obsessive quest to find something none of them can quite define.

It was _maddening_.

Also, inarguable proof that _yes_ , Hadrian really is a Black by blood.

None else but them, (and Sirius included himself in this though begrudgingly), had their manic drive and dogged-obsessiveness.

Bellatrix may have been the poster-witch for the “Black insanity” but they all had that same strain inside of them.

The only difference was how often they let it out to play.

“What the _fuck_ is that?!”

 _That_ being a massive swirling energy-pool-vortex-thing.

Sirius for all his obscure knowledge of the Dark Arts and their Defense (a requirement for the Master Auror he once was) had never seen anything like it, not even at the height of the Wizarding War.  Neither Voldemort nor Dumbledore or even Hadrian himself had ever created such a thing from pure power.  And even someone as mage-blind as Sirius was from the damage from his stint in Azkaban could see that _that_ was what it was.

Pure power.

“What we’ve been searching for.”  Hadrian whispered harshly, his gaze caught and enraptured by the sight.  “A Fountain.”

“Fountain?”  Remus questioned skeptically.  “That’s not _water_ it’s pouring out into the land.”

That was for sure.  Buried in the deepest recesses of one of the cavern complexes, they’d finally stumbled upon what had been calling them so persistently – Hadrian more than even Moony.  There wasn’t a drop of water for over a mile, the next underground aquifer at least two miles away with only small caches between here and there.

Deep beneath the surface, Hadrian had led them hear like a bloodhound locked on a scent once they’d gotten within range of the _Fountain’s_ grasp.

“A singularity.”  Hadrian clarified.  “A point where the internal pressure of the planet’s magic burst at some point in the past, creating a upwelling of power spilling onto the surface – or just below it in this case.  Earth had them – though in a much smaller and more controlled form – where magical lay-lines intersected.”

Places like Stonehenge and the Burren were good examples.

“ _Harry_.”  Remus growled a warning.  As his cub spoke he moved closer inch by inch to the peachy-pinkish glowing Fountain.  Hadrian paid no mind to his Uncle Remy’s warning, moreover he couldn’t.  The Fountain had him firmly enchanted.

“There’s only two intersections on Camelot we’ve found.”  Hadrian’s voice was faint, _absent_.  Simply thinking out loud and paying zero attention to his quietly panicking uncles as they were held still by the power of the Fountain.

Both mages had advanced as far as they could before the sheer _pressure_ of the magics given off by the Fountain trapped them like insects on ply paper.  That Hadrian was able to continue – even in his diminished state – spoke volumes about with his innate power and his force of will.

“North and South,” Hadrian continued, nearing the edge of the first ‘petal’ of the vaguely lotus-shaped glowing Fountain.  “Where the meridians all meet.  Nowhere else does the might of Camelot’s native magics break through from its Core.  Or so I thought…”

He trailed off, reaching one hand out towards the peach petal, a look of wonder on his face.

_“Harry!”_

…

_Starfleet Academy, San Francisco, 2257_

“What am _I_ doing here?”  Leo growled/grumbled at his best-friend.

“This was _your_ idea.”  Jim reminded the taciturn doctor.  “ _Get out_.  You said.  _Meet new people._ You said.  _Forget about Carol_.  You said.  Well,” Jim held his hands wide open in an expansive gesture.  “I took your advice and you’re _still_ not happy.”

“You.”  Leo scowled at the blonde-haired infant.  “I said _you_ should get out and try something new.  Not pick up Vulcan language classes and drag me along with you.  I’m not a Xenolinguistics major man, I’m a _doctor_.”

“Tough shit.”  Jim’s smirk was disctintly self-serving as he lowered his voice as the door at the front of the sparsely-populated classroom slid open with a hiss.  Not many cadets or regular Starfleet personnel were interested in the supplemental language courses offered every year at the Academy.  For the last year or so they’d been on Vulcan language and culture, a Commander and expert was stationed at the Academy while the fleet’s new flagship was being built.  Rumor had it the expert was tipped for the First Officer position on the _Enterprise._   Lucky bastard.  “Teacher’s here already.  You’re stuck.”

“Greetings.”  The tall, dark, and _pointy-eared_ commander said in a surprisingly mellow baritone.  “I am Commander Spock and will be your instructor for the next quarter and beyond should you decide to continue.  Class will officially begin in two minutes and thirty-seven seconds so if you have any qualms _now_ would be the appropriate time to depart.”

McCoy went to stand and take off only to be forced down into his seat by the deceptively-strong Kirk.

“ _Sit.  Stay.”_ Jim hissed out of the corner of his mouth, not wanting to turn his head from the fascinating specimen he was studying.  Half-Vulcan.  He mused.  There’d been rumors…  “ _Good Bones._ ”

“I’m going to hypo the shit out of you when we get back to the dorms.”  Leo’s voice was scarily calm.  “Making me spend even _more_ time with the green-blooded hobgoblin than I already do.”

“You know him?”

McCoy grunted.  “He teaches a handful of Science classes plus an official Vulcan class for the Xenolinquistics department.”

Jim hummed under his breath, eyes tracking the too-human browns in that sharply sculpted face.  Definitely half-Human.  His eyes were too warm for pure Vulcan.

That must’ve been a bitch growing up with those cold-blooded bastards.

“Very well.”  Spock nodded once as a few of the cadets changed their minds, likely for the same reason McCoy was complaining.

Commander Spock brooked no fools and had no patience for stupidity in his classes, leaving a strong mental impression (scar) on many of the less-studious of cadets.

“Before we begin we shall take a survey of those taking this class.  Name, program, and languages spoken so I can form appropriate lesson plans.”

Spock pointed to a young female cadet at the opposite side of the room from Jim and Leo, steadily making his way through the dozen of cadets and staff before reaching McCoy.

The doctor stood with a sigh.

“McCoy, Leonard.  Medical track.  Languages spoken: Federations Standard, English, French, Latin, Ancient Greek.”

Leo ignored the shocked look on his friend’s face as he sat back down.

“Interesting.”  Spock cocked a brow.  “Might I inquire as to where and why you learned old Earthen languages?”

“Family tradition.”  McCoy drawled.  “My mother’s family took our history _very_ seriously.”

“Fascinating.”  Brown eyes turned towards the last cadet.  “And you, cadet?”

Jim stood in turn, mentally shaking off his shock.  Bones had never _not once_ mentioned that he spoke anything other than Standard.  Or anything about his family for that matter.  Oh there was going to be an inquisition tonight.

“Kirk, James T.”  Jim ignored the arched-brow that got him.  He knew his reputation as a troublemaker and flirt had made its way up to the instructors.  It didn’t bother him.  Better they be talking about that than how his father died.  “Command track.  Federation Standard, Klingon, smattering of Romulan.”

“That will serve you well in this course.”  Spock observed about the last addition.  “There are many similarities between Vulcan and Romulan.  Now for this course we will be covering…”

...

 


	6. Five: A Good Children

** Harder Choices **

_Author’s Note: Keep an eye on my Facebook page for the most up-to-date info on what I’m currently working on and when updates are happening/might happen._

_This has come up already and I feel it should be discussed.  The Hadrian of this story is a very different animal than that of Avalon Seven.  For one thing this Hadrian freely admitted to using the magic stripping ritual or Emrys curse several times throughout his rule whereas the Hadrian in Avalon Seven was horrified by it the one time (up to chapter 15) he had to use it.  HC’s Hadrian is more ruthless and had to deal with a different set of circumstances than A7’s Hadrian, such as not having a close-friend and confidant in William or needing to soften or adjust himself for a consort.  He’s a warrior and a bachelor and sometimes he’s an autocratic bastard.  But I love him for it and I hope you guys will love him for his differences from A7’s Hadrian just as much as you loved my original interpretation of Harry-as-King._

_Also without the tension the contracts had caused, Rhys never became the massive dickhead he’s currently being in A7._

_I went through and fixed an error in chapter three that discussed where the new home was going to be located immediately following the ritual._

_Enjoy!_

**Chapter Five: A Good Children**

_Camelot, Caverns beneath the Mars Fields, 2256_

**_“Harry!”_ **

Twin shouts rang through the cavern deep within the underbelly of the Mars Fields as Hadrian stepped farther into the glowing singularity, one hand treating out a tracing a delicate pink petal that pulsed with barely-restrained power.

He felt a brief moment of ironic humor at the situation as the power of the singularity wrapped around him at his enchanted touch, thinking to himself: _This is why it’s always me that gets into these situations.  I just can’t help but touch what I shouldn’t touch and play with and delve into matters better left_ alone _._

And he couldn’t think _anything_ as pain mingled with a wild euphoria washed over and through him, carrying his sentient consciousness away.

…

When he was – not conscious – but _aware_ once more, marginally recovered from the initial backlash of unknowingly linking his mind and heart and _power_ to that that seethed beneath the surface of his new home, to the sheer _vastness_ that was Camelot, Hadrian found locked in awe for long minutes as he _reveled_ in Her.

Tears sprang into his eyes.

It wasn’t until he linked himself fully with Camelot that he realized just how _much_ he had missed communing with the Great Mother of his birth planet.

Terra was different than Camelot – or Cami Hadrian decided whimsically – in innumerable ways both great and small.  He’d known and noted many of them before, ever since his power and that of his ritual carried him and his people – now known collectively as the Tovenaar, having taken a new identity themselves to go along with this new world – as had all of his people.  But countless more had been overlooked or remained as yet unfound or unnoticed.

Cami was simply so much _larger_ than her far-distant cousin who had birthed a pair of humanoid species following the seeding of the ‘verses while Cami’s own nascent form of seeded life had died in the womb long before it and they became even close to the abilities of either Man or Tovenaar or any of the other seeded species throughout the infinite worlds and universes.

It would take lifetimes even with the Tovenaar’s combination of magic and technology to know the breadth and scope of their new Mother – and even then secrets would remain hidden from them.

Hadrian found himself pleased by that.

But above all, Cami was _wilder_.

And Hadrian was pleased with that _too_.

He felt a gentle laugh tease at his mind at the thought.

_She_ was amused by his pleasure in her and her native children.  But Cami loved him for it nonetheless.  The wide-eyed pleasure and joy he’d shown since his first moment of waking within her atomosphere.  A _knowing_ that her own children simply weren’t capable of possessing that made Hadrian’s and his people’s love of her _deeper_ than that of the creatures both great and small that previously populated her shores.

Cami was also _concerned_ for what she’d found among her newly adopted children.

Chief among them the three she had summoned to a place of power that she might take steps.

Of all her new life, these three were the most like her own failed children that had died in the cusp of her womb.

_Wild_ , yes.  They were wild.  They contained a _savagery_ in their souls that the other new lifes did not.  A yearning, and searching, and even a taste for blood.

Especially the one with amber eyes.

_Stong_ , yes.

They were strong as well and powerful with it.

Perhaps…

Yes, Cami decided, looking _deeper_ into the one who had heeded her Call as she held him suspended oh-so-gently in her grasp.

Wild and powerful and strong.

These three could survive what Cami could do for them.

The Tovenaar were a good children, who had loved and cared for their Mother and had mourned to leave Terra in order to save her.

But Cami could make them _better._

With these three she’d Called to her, Cami could make them her _own_ children.

At least these three.

They were wild and strong and powerful enough to survive being _perfected_.

She wouldn’t make them her own in _full_.  No.  She decided.  That would not be fair to either Terra who the little new life Cami held so close to his heart nor to the little life himself.  Her little wild one had given so much to save his first Mother that cutting his ties to Terra completely would not be something he would thank or honor Cami for.  But Cami could replace or change some of those ties, perfecting him and making him more her _own_ than the others of his people.

And since Cami herself was _wild and strong and powerful_ …she did just that.

Taking the three of them into her embrace and working her changes deep within them making them more _hers_ and less _Terra’s_.

Her wolf, her Grim, and _her_ Master of Death.

Yes.  Cami brushed a loving tendril of power down each of the three’s cheeks once it had been done.

The Tovenaar would be a good children for Cami just as they once had been for Terra.

And these three would make it so.

…

_Star Fleet Academy, San Francisco, 2257_

Weeks after that first meeting of the supplemental language class, Jim finally pinned Bones down for an interrogation.

With regular classes, prepping for the final push to finish the Command track of the Academy in the timeframe he’d boasted to Pike, and taking the supplemental Vulcan classes plus his _personal_ extracurriculars, it had kinda slipped his mind for a while, so sue him.

That night however, Commander Spock had paired everyone up for conversation practice with what they’d learned so far of his native language.

With the instructor currently sitting in on a pair of cadets on the other side of the room who generally spent more time giggling either over the Commander or Kirk himself, Jim felt relatively safe veering off from the assigned topic of conversation.

He _was_ going to find out exactly what kind of family McCoy came from that required their kids to learn Latin, Ancient Greek, and _Gaelic_ of all things.

The first two he could at least theoretically understand.  A lot of medical terminology still used Latin and even Ancient Greek was studied in the more historically-focused schools and colleges.

But _Gaelic_?

That put the _dead_ in dead language.

Nobody used it anymore.  The few who _had_ at one time were mostly wiped out by a plague before First Contact and the introduction of Federation Standard.  It was a strictly-scholarly dialect that only someone going for a degree in ancient European civilizations would have any logical reason to study.

It just didn’t make _sense_.

Especially for a man who had protested taking Vulcan on the basis of being a doctor and _not_ a linguist.

“Come _on_ , Bones.”  Jim said in exasperation after McCoy refused to spill after nearly a half-hour of begging and prying from his best-friend.  “It’s not like it’s a state secret or anything.”

Leo sniffed.  “Shows what _you_ know.”  The doctor jabbed with a grumble.  “For the last cotton-pickin’ time _no_ , I’m not going to tell you why my family made me learn Gaelic.”

“But…”  Kirk started again only to get cut off by a familiar smooth baritone and an arched eyebrow.

“Is there a problem here, gentlemen?”

“No,” McCoy sat up straight, starting to apologize to the hobgoblin.  He didn’t want the pointy-eared prick on his ass during his other classes with the Commander because Jim couldn’t take a hint.  Too bad for Leo that the same Jim cut him off and threw him under the damn bus.

“Bones was _just_ ,” Jim smirked.  “Going to regal me with the story about why his family learns dead languages from the cradle.”

“That sounds,” Spock frowned, eyeing the two.  “ _Fascinating_.  However, that is not the exercise assigned.  Please leave your private conversations for outside this classroom.”

“Of course, Commander.”  McCoy said from between gritted teeth, glaring all the while at Jim who had the devil’s own look on his face.  His bullshit-sensors were going _crazy_.  That could only mean one thing…Jim was about to start something Leo was going to have to finish.

“Of course, Commander.”  Kirk echoed his companion, getting a crisp nod from the half-Vulcan.  “Perhaps you’d like to join us, at say the Widow’s Peak, twenty-one hundred for that conservation?”

“Goddamnit, Jim.”  Leo cursed him under his breath, giving him a sharp kick under the table.  Jim and his _fucking_ libido.  He’d been eyeing up the Commander ever since the start of the class now _this_ shit.

“As interesting as the good doctor’s tale must be.”  Spock answered with carefully concealed humor.  “I must decline.  It would not be appropriate at this time for myself to join a pair of cadets for a social occasion.  Perhaps another day.”

Jim just stared a bit _yearningly_ at that cute ass in regulation black as Leo whacked him over the head with an irritated hiss.

Goddamn _infant_ and his fucking _libido_.

…

_Skye Palace, Avalon City, Camelot_

_Monsoon Season, 2258_

Severus swept up the stairs of the King’s Tower, in search of the insufferable dunderhead he’d come to love over the last sixteen years like his own twins.

He could look back now with fondness on their first meeting where using a combination of ruthless guile and enchanting charm the now-King had coerced him into entering his service as the Royal Potions Master, offering both protection and release from his two previous Lords.  At the time part of him was envious after watching his best-friend have his Dark Mark removed as Lucius – always one with his eye on the main chance – quickly took the offered lifeline to save himself and advance his family.  Severus himself had been in a much more precarious position with the Oaths and Vows that had bound him into the service of both the Dark Lord and the self-styled Lord of Light Magic.

That Hadrian was also _Harry_ had freed him from what would have been a massive conflict of interest allowing him to enter into Royal service instead of ushering in a _personal_ encounter with the Emrys Curse.

As Severus came into sight of the King who was once more standing at the highest window of the King’s Tower and staring out over Camelot, he could hardly believe the span of time that had passed between then and now.

Hadrian had grown strong and _quickly_ always appearing older than his actual years.

Right up until the Solstice before his nineteenth birthday when he cast the Emrys Curse for the last time.

His King still looked like a young wizard balancing on the very edge of manhood, despite the eight years that had passed since that casting.  His arms were just as strong, his chest and shoulders just as wide, yes; but his face lacked the hardness that a wizard gains with maturity and his musculature while strong and ripped and cut lacked the _solidness_ that came with age.  For all intents and purposes, Hadrian hadn’t aged a day in eight years.

And Severus wasn’t the only on to have noticed it, the _lack_ of change becoming ever more apparent since the King and his two canines had returned from their jaunt into the desert.

Hadrian’s quest into the Mars Fields had _altered_ them all in ephemeral ways that the Tovenaar at large didn’t yet notice save for those closest to the three.  Instead of the slow _diminishing_ that Hadrian had suffered with for years, he was now somehow _more_ than he was before entering the caverns beneath the surface of Camelot.  And yet he was _also_ less, the refined King giving way in small fractions to the wilder warrior that lurked underneath Hadrian’s fostered urbanity.

“Find what you’re looking for?”  Hadrian asked in mild reproach without turning around.

“Not yet.”  Severus responded, moving fully into the light.  “Though the answer grows closer every day.”

“Mmm.”  Hadrian took a sip of the firewhiskey from his glass.  “You’re not at the celebrations.  It’s bad form for the father of the groom to be missing.”

“My son and young Wallace have taken their leave for their honeymoon.”  Sev poured himself a drink from the decanter left out on a side table and joined his liege at the window.  “They were looking for you before they left.”  He chastised lightly.

He didn’t have it in him to scold Hadrian.  Not this time.  He’d once thought – _hoped_ – that the boy he’d come to think of as a member of his family would _become_ a part of his family.  Hope that had died four years ago with the revelation – still concealed from the Tovenaar at large – that the Pendragon curse had lashed out in full at Hadrian.

Were it not quite in full-force, the King would have been able to follow his heart and his own inclinations and this day’s celebrations would have been of a Triad rather than a pair.

But the Pendragon bloodline curse was a vicious, demanded bitch.

None but Hadrian’s _true mates_ would appease it.

A fact that made Severus quietly despair.

Hadrian was already twenty-six.  If he remained unmated by his seventh decade, the curse would take his life as forfeit.  Five mates, perhaps less if by some unforeseen miracle a mate could be found that was a perfect match for Hadrian’s heart as well as his soul or his mind as well as his body, etc.

It was a fading hope that their King would stay with them, unless his mates were as-yet unborn.  No children had been born to the Tovenaar in the first two years of colonization, Hadrian having banned reproduction until the colonization had stabilized.  The masses had made up for it however once the restriction had been lifted, Tavi and Rhys’ bonding only being the most recent of such happy events in the last six years.

Love and life were rampant in the Tovenaar as they settled into existence on their new home and new hope.

Now if only Severus could commandeer some of that love and life and hope for their King, all would be well.

“I didn’t want to cast a pall on their day when my thoughts turned maudlin.”  Hadrian answered after many minutes spent in quiet reflection.  “I have found myself to be poor company lately, even for Remy and Siri.”

“What troubles?”  Severus asked, taking an appreciative sip of Hadrian’s fine cognag.  “The curse?”

“No.”  Hadrian shook his head at once.  “Not that.  The curse will be resolved or not, in due time.”

“Then what?”  Severus was truly at a loss.  They had a good life here on Camelot.  Hadrian’s Ritual had been a true miracle of magic and might.  Even his liege’s seemingly eternal youth couldn’t tarnish the sheen of the Tovenaar.  “What could draw you away from your closest friends and confidants on such a joyous day?”

“A small dash of envy, I must admit.”  Hadrian grimanced, emerald eyes dark as he turned them on one of his staunchest supporters since the Ritual.  “But more than that I… _sense_ something.”  He furrowed his brows, unhappy with the explanation.  “Something in the weft and weck of this universe has been unmade and then fashioned anew.  I couldn’t sense it, not before.  But since…”

He trailed off.  Only himself and his uncles knew of what happened in the cavern.  The others merely knew that they’d found what they were looking for.  They had no _idea_ the changes that had been made in the very fabric that the three of them were cut from.

“Since I’ve _settled in_.”  He decided it was as good a phrase as any.  “I can feel it now.  _And_ that whatever change has been made and whatever _caused_ it, it’s not yet finished.”

“The dangers of playing with time.”  Severus commented after several minutes of heavy thought.  “You think someone has _altered_ what should be?”

Hadrian nodded, draining his glass in a single gulp.

“And what _should have been_.”  He slashed a hand through the air.  “Moreover it _wasn’t_ the doing of one of ours.”

Severus cocked his head to one side, considering that.  When the Tovenaar were yet still _Wizarding Kind_ there were strict laws and rules regulating time manipulation.  In this strange future where magic and mysticism had likely given way in the face of science and progress, it was possible such a thing _could have_ been accomplished…without the ethics and boundaries that kept the Tovenaar from playing lightly with the fabric of time.

“This…newly fashioned present.”  Severus probed, testing this new revelation of Hadrian’s.  Would the day ever come where the young King ceased to surprise him with the seemingly-endless well of abilities he possessed?  “How will it affect us?  Or will it do so at all?”

Hadrian shrugged, narrowing his eyes as he looked out over the bustling Palace grounds and Avalon City on the adjoining aerial island.

“Hard if not impossible to say.”  He admitted, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.  “It was _already_ altered when I brought us forward into it.  There is no way for any of my skills or powers to discern how the ripples will crest and break.  Perhaps we will be caught up in the new future of this altered line?”  He cocked his head and smiled as a falcon took flight from the palace mews.  “Perhaps we won’t.  But _something_ is coming.”  He rested one hand on the window sill.  “And we’d best be prepared when it does.”

…

_Star Fleet Academy, San Francisco, 2258_

“I should just hack the damned thing.”  Jim Kirk snorted, throwing his hands up in the air after reading yet another account of the Kobayashi Maru on his PADD.  “All they’re doing is crippling their damned officers: forcing them to lose that problem solving ability they search so damned hard for.”  He continued to complain, ignoring his roommate Bones’ rolling eyes and mocking lip-syncing to the oft-heard refrain.

Finally, the rant drew to its inevitable close and Leo shot his friend a look as he sat back in his chair.

“You done?”  The doctor drawled sarcastically.

Jim looked down at the PADD for a moment then tossed it dramatically out the window at his side.

“Now I am.”  He gave the groaning Bones a cheesy-cheery grin.  “And I remained surprised that all of the members of the Command track don’t have an anxiety disorder thanks to that damned exercise.”

“Agreed.”  McCoy said with a nod, having wondered about that same thing ever since Jim had started looking into the test.  _“However._ ”  He continued, rolling right over his friend’s smug grin and making it falter.

Jim _hated_ it when Bones started a sentence with _however_.  It usually preceded something that was going to make his life suck in the short term and then lead to “I told you so’s” in the long term.  ‘However’ was a word Kirk wished never made the transition from English to Federation Standard.

“Hacking the test is only going to get you up before the academic review board if not booted from the Academy altogether.”  Leo shot his younger friend a _look_.  “And since your green-blooded hobgoblin of a crush is the one who _wrote_ the damned thing it would be the exact _wrong_ way to get his attention.  This isn’t grade school and Commander Spock doesn’t have pigtails to tug on, Jim.”

Kirk blushed and crossed his arms, sulking.  He _did not_ have a crush on the Vulcan.  He merely appreciated the way his perky ass filled out his uniform pants and the way his half-Human heritage warmed his nearly-alien eyes.  _That was not a_ crush.

“So, what?”  Jim asked in exasperation.  “I should just give in and fail the damned thing just like every _other_ Command-track shmuck in the last however-many-years?”

“Not at all, my hormonal friend.”  Leo gave the _infant_ a superior smile.  “Pike’s on base after his most recent mission and he will be until the _Enterprise_ is finally complete.  He’s kept an eye on you: go talk to him about it.”

“Talk to Pike, huh?”  Jim stared out the window at the shattered remains of his PADD.  “It’s not the _worst_ advice you’ve ever given me.”

“Hey.”  McCoy scowled.  “I resent that.  I give _excellent_ advice.”

“Sure, Bones.”  Kirk rolled his eyes, thinking of a particular mix of Romulan Ale and Scotch that should have _never_ been attempted.  “Sure you do…”

…

“It’s an intriguing idea.”  Spock was forced to concede.  “Retooling the Kobayashi Maru to create creative thinking as well as induce fear, teaching the Command track cadets how to innovate under stress.”

“It is.”  Captain Pike looked up at the two Star Fleet personnel in his office.  He was waiting out the last six months before his new command was ready for her maiden voyage at the Academy so another Captain could take over the Truman.  “The question being: do the two of you think you can work together to realize it?”

Kirk and Spock traded cautious glances.

“I believe so, Captain.”  Spock arched a brow at the younger man.  “As long as Cadet Kirk agrees.”

Pike took a long look at Jim who had spent most of the meeting twiddling his thumbs.

“What?”  He snapped to attention.  “I mean…yeah.  Sure, I’m on board.”  Jim gave a crooked grin.  “It was my idea to begin with right, oughta see it through.”

“Very well.”  Captain Pike nodded.  “Cadet Kirk for your capstone project you will collaborate with Commander Spock to initialize some of your ideas to improve the Kobayashi Maru.  At that end of that time your work will be evaluated and barring any _difficulties…”_

In other words: no more bar fights or Admiral’s daughters, _idiot._

“…you will be assigned to the _Enterprise_ upon your graduation with the rank of Second Officer.”  Christopher broke character for a moment, giving his young protégé a warm smile.  “I’m very proud of you, Jim.”

“Thanks, sir.”  Kirk looked away.  “I…appreciate the opportunity.”

…

_The King’s Tower, Skye Palace, Avalon City, Camelot, 2258_

Hadrian stared up at the sky as it was lit with the radiance of an imploding star, the heavens seeming to dance and wheel above him.

He hummed under his breath, a half-smile on his face, as Sirius loped to his side, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with his pup.

“What do you see?”  The elder wizard asked curiously.

“Change, Uncle Siri.”  Hadrian gave his godfather an all-out grin, the likes of which was rarely seen upon his face anymore.  “I see _Change_.”

“Ah,” Sirius looked up at the night sky.  It was harder for him to watch the stars the way he once did.  With only one night per week, the changes came faster or perhaps were merely more noticeable than they were on the home planet of his youth.  Most of the older Tovenaar felt the same way, leaving the sky-watching to the younger set who were not so hide-bound.  “Good or bad?”

“Hard to say.”  Hadrian clapped one hand on the other’s shoulder.  “But it’s coming, nonetheless.”

“Better call the guard.”  Sirius barked out a laugh.  “The last time you looked at me like that we ended up chasing a rabid were across the moors.”

Hadrian scoffed rolling his eyes.  “For that _last time_ ,” his tone was pure exasperation.  “I didn’t _know_ Fenrir was going to be at that _exact_ location when we were searching for Voldemort’s stronghold…”

“Right, right.”  Sirius nodded his head patronizingly.  “Sure you didn’t…”  He tossed over his shoulder as he walked away.  “And you had _nothing_ to do with the exploding dung bombs in the watchtower that night _either_ …”

“Prat!”

“Bratling!”

…


	7. Opposite and Parallel Universes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter covers the events of Star Trek: 2009 and is large compared to other chapters in this story thus far at 15,000 words.

** Harder Choices **

_Note: This chapter is mostly reprising Star Trek: 2009 with changes to fit with the storyline I’ve created.  You won’t see anyone from Camelot in this chapter since it’s the lead-up to the first contact between Hadrian and the Tovenaar and the characters from the Star Trek multiverse.  This chapter uses large pieces of the actual dialogue from the movie in some places and is massive compared to previous chapters at around 15,000 words._

_Again: this chapter contains a large amount of dialogue, settings, etc. from the Star Trek: 2009 script.  I don’t own those portions of the story in general or this chapter in particular, they belong to their respective owners, I’m simply using them for the enrichment of my fan-authored fiction._

**Chapter Six: Opposite and Parallel Universes**

Captain Christopher Pike cursed under his breath.  Of all times for his new Second Officer Kirk to have a bad reaction to a vaccine it had to be during an emergency distress call from Vulcan.  Now they were down a command officer while Kirk was under observation in the medbay.

“Engines at Maximum Warp, Captain.”

The helmsman Hikaru Sulu reported, Pike who looking over to the young man sitting on Sulu’s right.

“Russian whiz kid,” Pike spoke with a small smirk, seeing the young genius turn in his chair.  “What's your name again? Chanko? Cherpov?”

There was a second in which annoyance appeared into those bright blue eyes, and Pike suppressed a laugh when the young man straightened and smiled brightly.

“Ensign Chekov, Pavel Andreyevich, sir,” the young Ensign introduced himself and Pike nodded.

“Fine, Chekov, Pavel Andreyevich, begin ship-wide mission broadcast.”  Pike gave the order and Chekov nodded as he turned the chair, elegant fingers immediately dancing over the board in front of him.

“Yes, Keptin, happy to.”  He spoke in his heavily accented voice before leaning closer to the mic. “Ensign authorization code: Nine - Five - Wictor - Wictor - Two…”

"AUTHORIZATION NOT RECOGNIZED, PLEASE TRY AGAIN." The computer’s response made Chekov sigh exasperatedly, not noticing the way Sulu smirked at his younger comrade.

“Agh, thez is the 23rd Century.” Pavel muttered under his breath, quickly retyping his entry code, “what good is woice recognition that doesn't recognize your woice?” Pressing a button, he tried again: “Nine-Five-Victor-Victor-Two.”

"ACCESS GRANTED: INTRA-SHIP COMMUNICATION ACTIVE." Chekov smirked as his face appeared on every screen in the ship and he started on the broadcast.

“Your attention, plees…”

…

“At twenty-two hundred hours, telemetry detected an anomaly in the Neutral Zone. What appeared to be a lightning storm in space… Soon after, Star Fleet received a distress signal from the Wulcan High Council that their planet was experiencing seismic activity. We then lost contact with Wulcan entirely. Our mission is to assess the condition of Wulcan and assist in ewacuations, if necessary. We should be arriving at Wulcan within two minutes. Thank you for your…”

Jim pushed one of the medical officers to the side and rushed over to the video monitor, ignoring Bones’s tittering around him in favor of rewinding Chekov’s speech.

“…telemetry detected an anomaly in the Neutral Zone. What appeared to be a lightning storm in space…” Jim froze the transmission in that exact moment, eyes wild as he looked at McCoy, who was still worried about Jim’s unexpected reaction to one of the mandatory vaccines he’d administered at the command to ready the ship to respond to Vulcan’s distress call.

“Bones, we have to stop the ship…”

“You’re not allergic to Cardassian vole dander, are you?” Leo asked, completely ignoring Jim’s mumbling.

“What? How the hell would I k - doesn’t matter!”  He snapped, swatting Bones off of him, making the doctor roll his eyes and huff at his being an ‘infant’. “Is Uhura on board?”

“You need an antidote, Jim, or you're gonna die.”  Bones said with point-blank urgency, but Jim just rolled his eyes at the fussing and ran out of the medbay with Bones at his heels, cursing the whole way. “Jim, I'm not kidding, you gotta keep your heart rate down until I figure out what the blue-hell is wrong with you!”  Well, Leo thought to himself.  Besides the usual Kirk-mania anyway.

“Computer, locate crew member Uhura…”

“I haven't seen a reaction this severe since Med school…” Leo muttered into his PADD, ignoring his friend’s blossoming moment of idiocy.

“LIEUTENANT UHURA IS AT SIGNALS MONITORING STATION 12, DECK FOUR,” the Computer reported.

“We’re flying into a trap.” Jim breathed out, eyes wide and wild, Leo groaning and once more rolling his eyes, his attempt at giving Jim an antidote hindered for heavens knows which time.

“You're delusional, you know that?”

They walked out of the turbolift and McCoy could have cheered in triumph when Jim came to a stop long enough for the doctor to inject him with an antidote, jabbing the hypo gun roughly against the stubborn idiot’s stiff neck.

“Ow!” Jim snapped and glared at Bones who shot him an innocent look: “Stop it!”

Jim rushed forward and Bones rolled his eyes, sighing in exasperation, knowing there was nothing else he could do but follow after Jim.  He’d seen the younger man in such a determined state before and knew that Jim wouldn’t stop until he was satisfied.  At least this time his newest obsession wasn’t likely to leave him with a rash in an unmentionable area or was a green-blooded hobgoblin.

“Uhura!”  Jim called out and came to a stop, out of breath and sweating up a river.

“Jim?”  Uhura’s eyes widened when she looked at him, taking in the sopping-wet uniform and harsh breathing, but Jim didn’t give her time to speak.

“The transmission from the Klingon prison planet - what exactly did you hear?” Jim blurted out, words coming out muffled from his panting.

“What are you doing here?!” Uhura ignored his question in favor of asking her own, her eyes darting all over Jim and settling on the wet spots that were rapidly condensing into a puddle of ickiness as his body tried to purge the vaccine.  “You’re supposed to be in the medbay!”

“Who was it who escaped? What was the fip ‘af us sf - wha’ s ‘afenin’ ‘o ‘y ‘ouf?” Jim turned to Leonard with a frantic look, the sweating lessening while another side effect to the vaccine took hold.

“You've got Numb Tongue…” Leonard informed Jim who whined and spun around to give the Medical officer an indignant glare.

“Umb fung?!”  The young command officer cried out frantically.

“That's not good. I can fix that.” Leo mumbled as he quickly started digging through the box of vaccines in his hands while Jim whined and slapped his hands against his thighs looking at Uhura again who was watching it all happen with wide eyes, completely confused.

“’The fip, uath ith Womuwan?”  Jim tried to be coherent only to fail miserably.  He huffed and rolled his eyes, but before he could start over Bones injected him…again.  “OW!” Jim shouted and glared at McCoy, hands darting to block his neck from Leo’s deadly case of hypos. “Damnit, would you cut it out to perverse sonuvabitch!”

Bones just looked on, quite self-satisfied, Uhura shaking her head in disbelief.

Having decided to ignore the doctor for a moment Jim turned to the communications cadet and tried again.

“The ship…”  His tongue seemed back to normal if a bit heavy, thank god.  “Was it Romulan?”

Sparkling brown eyes widened as she stared in Jim’s panic-darkened eyes.

“Oh god…”

…

Jim ran onto the bridge followed by a begrudging McCoy and a shocked Uhura, every single head on the bridge turning towards them in confusion.

“Jim?”  Pike jumped to his feet as Jim came to stand in front of him, Spock abandoning his post as the distressed officer fought to catch his breath.  “You’re supposed to be in sick-bay getting treated.”

“Captain Pike, we have to stop this ship!” Jim managed to press out between gasps for air, making everyone frown at him, ignoring Bones who came to stand to Jim’s right.

“This man is under the influence of a severe reaction to a vaccine. He is delusional, and I take full responsibility for…”

“Vulcan isn't experiencing a natural disaster: it's being attacked by Romulans!” Jim blurted, cutting off both Pike and Bones as heavy silence settled over the room.

Completely ignoring Jim, despite their burgeoning friendship while redesigning the Kobayashi Maru, Spock concentrated his full attention on Pike.

“I can remove the sick Second Officer from the bridge, Sir, by recommending a full stop in trans-warp…”

“Try it, Pointy! This Officer is trying to save…!”

“…in the midst of a rescue mission?”

“It's not a rescue mission - listen to me!” Having finally had enough Jim raised his voice, making everyone focus their attention on him. “It's an attack!”

“Based on what facts?” Spock asked leadingly, glancing at the Captain from the corner of his eye.  The First Officer was willing to entertain Second Officer Kirk’s suppositions…but only to a point while he was still untested.

“You want facts?”  Jim shot out, blue eyes glaring, facing Spock completely.  “Alright, fact - the same anomaly - a lighting storm in space - that we saw today also occurred on the day of my birth, before a Romulan ship attacked the U.S.S. Kelvin.”  Jim looked at Pike taking a step closer to the Captain, “you know that, I read your dissertation.”

Pike frowned, but Jim didn’t give him time to speak, facing Spock again with a fierce scowl.

“Fact - this ship - which had formidable and advanced weaponry - was never seen or heard from again. Fact: the Kelvin attack took place on the edge of Klingon space, and at 11-hundred hours last night there was an escape from a Klingon prison planet - Rura Penthe. Fact: the escaped prisoners were Romulans, Sir,” Jim looked at Pike, his eyes straying to Leo’s shocked face for a brief moment, “and it was reported that they stole a ship from the prison dock.”

Pike cleared his throat, trying to get a grip over himself before speaking, “And you know of this prison escape how?”

Jim turned on his heel and looked at Uhura, giving her a clear motion to back him up.

“Sir, I - I intercepted and translated the message myself. Kirk's report is accurate.”  She spoke firmly after the initial stutter and Pike glanced at Spock.

“We're warping into a trap.”  Jim spoke up, voice trembling despite him trying to calm down the raging emotions that were attempting to ruin his control and block out everything but the situation at hand.  “There are Romulans waiting for us, I promise you that.”

“Our Second Officer’s – though he’s yet to be sworn in - logic is sound.”  Spock spoke up much to Jim’s pleasure.

He thought it would take more than that to win the stubborn bastard over to his side – friendship aside, Spock was just too good at compartmentalizing.

“Lieutenant Uhura is unmatched in Xenolinguistics,” Spock continued slowly then shrugged arching an expressive brow.  “I am inclined to believe my friend and one of my finest students.”

“Scan Vulcan space.”  Pike ordered the Communications Officer, “check if any transmissions are being made in Romulan.”

“Sir, I'm not sure I could distinguish the Romulan language from Vulcan,” the man admitted and Pike looked at Uhura.

“How about you? You speak Romulan, Cadet...?”

“Uhura, Sir,” she nodded, “all three dialects.”

“Uhura, relieve the Lieutenant. Mr. Hannity, hail the U.S.S. Truman.” While Uhura took his place, Hannity ran off to do as he was told, Jim and Spock moving to flank Captain Pike’s seated position in the Captain’s chair at the center of the sleek bridge.

All three of the command officers, with McCoy waiting alongside them, sat or stood in silence as they waited on Hannity’s hail.

“The other ships are out of warp and have arrived at Vulcan, Sir, but we seem to have lost all contact,” Hannity spoke up, shaking Jim out of his thoughts and making everyone look at Uhura.

“Captain, I can’t pick up any Romulan transmissions, or transmissions of any kind in the area. There seems to be something jamming all communication around Vulcan.”

“It's because they're being attacked.” Jim spoke up and Pike looked at him. “Captain. Please,” Jim urged, completely serious.  “If you can’t trust me – even when sick – why would you make me one of your officers in the first place?”

After a long minute full of tense silence Pike nodded for himself and turned on his heel. “Shields up. Ready all weapons.”

Jim sprang to the comm, sending commands down to the men in the armory.  “All weapons ready!  All hands to their posts!  Prepare to fire upon command!”

“Arrival at Vulcan in five seconds! Four... three... two…” Sulu didn’t even manage to say ‘one’, because the moment they were out of warp, they were suddenly surrounded by a deluge of debris.

“Emergency evasive!” Pike ordered, the lights going red as everyone held on tight to whatever surface was closest to them.

“Running, Sir!” Sulu answered. Everyone stared in rapt attention and horror at the screen, their breaths hitching in their lungs when they saw a huge piece of a starship floating right in front of them.

“Full reverse. Come about starboard, 90°. Drop us down underneath them, Sulu!” Captain ordered, appearing calm and collected, although if one looked into his eyes they would see absolute fear and distress.

“Jesus.”  Kirk whispered.  “Mary and Joseph.  I’ve never wanted to be wrong more.”

Leo leaned over and clasped one hand on his friend’s shoulder before running into the turbolift.  He would be needed in the med bay now that Jim was firing on all cylinders again.

Everyone held their breaths as the U.S.S. Enterprise ducked under the torn down ship in front of them, feeling as though they were physically hurt when their ship shook and the sound of metal scrapping against metal echoed through the deafening silence within Enterprise.

They breathed out almost as one when it stopped, but a second later an alarm sounded again.

“Captain, they're locking torpedoes.” Spock stated calmly and Pike growled.

“Prepare to fire all weapons!”  He ordered, Jim repeating it in his communicator.

Pike cursed under his breath and looked around as the ship shuddered all around them, thinking quickly.

“Sulu, report!”

“Shields at thirty-two percent! Their weapons are powerful, Sir, we can't take another hit like that!” Sulu informed them and Pike cursed under his breath.

As the ship shook again Pike turned to Uhura, “Get me Star Fleet Command!”

“Captain, the Romulan ship has lowered some kind of high energy pulse device into the Vulcan atmosphere, its signal appears to be blocking our communications and transporter abilities!”

Pike cursed again hands fisting on the armrests of his chair. “All power to forward shields, prepare to fire all weapons! Divert auxiliary power from port nacelle to the shields…” The ship stopped shaking, resulting in a strained silence as everyone turned towards the view-screen.

“Captain, we're being hailed!” Uhura snapped and Pike looked at her over his shoulder, slowly standing up.

“On screen.”  He ordered, standing proud with hands clasped on the small of his back. Everyone tensed up when a face appeared on the view-screen - a Romulan with tattoos on his face and cold, calculating, emotionless eyes.

“Hello.”  The Romulan said calmly, as if they were at a tea party rather than a battle.

“I am Captain Christopher Pike, to whom am I speaking?” Pike’s voice was strong, and the Romulan tilted his head back a bit.

“I am called Nero.”  He spoke coldly, with obvious pride.

“You've declared war against the Federation. Withdraw, and I'll agree to arrange a conference with Romulan leadership at a neutral loca…”

“I do not speak for the Empire.”  Nero cut Pike off, eyebrows rising for the smallest of fragments. “We stand apart. As does your Vulcan crew member, isn't that right? Spock?”

All eyes turned to Spock who glanced at the Captain standing proud although if one looked really, really close - and Jim was looking - they would see slight confusion in Spock’s brown eyes.

“Pardon me. But I don't believe you and I are acquainted,” Spock spoke in that usual stoic tone of his.

“No, we're not. Not yet, but I would like you to see something…Spock.” Nero drawled in clear disdain before looking at Pike again, seemingly dismissing Spock as inconsequential. "Captain Pike, your transporter capability is disabled. You will man a shuttle and come aboard the _Narada_ for negotiations. That is all.”

The screen shut down marking the end of the transmission, and silence settled over the room.

A moment later both Spock and Jim moved forward speaking almost at the same time.

“He’ll kill you, you know that…” Jim muttered.

“Your survival is unlikely…” Spock agreed, sharing a concerned look with the younger officer.

“Captain, we gain nothing by diplomacy. Going over to that ship is a mistake.”

“I, too, suggest you rethink this strategy.”  Spock added to Jim’s statement, Pike raising eyebrows at the two who seemed to share a brain without using Spock’s melding abilities.

“I understand that.”  He summarily dismissed the two who exchanged a glance while Pike addressed the rest of the bridge-crew.  “I need officers who have been trained in advanced hand-to-hand combat!”

Sulu turned in his chair, raising his right hand, and Pike nodded at him.

“I have training, Sir!” Sulu said.

“Then come with me,” Pike nodded at Sulu before glancing at Jim and sighing in what appeared to be frustration. “Kirk, you too, you're not supposed to be on active duty anyway.  Mr. Chekov man the comms, have Chief Engineer Olson meet us in the transporter bay.”

“Aye, Keptin!”  He called out as the door slammed close behind the eclectic group.

“Without transporters, we can't beam off the ship, can't assist Vulcan, can't do our job. I'm creating an opportunity.”  Pike spoke up the moment they were out of the turbolift and rushing down metal railways.  “Mr. Kirk, Mr. Sulu, and Chief Engineer Olson will space-jump from the shuttle. You'll have chutes: land on that machine they've lowered into the atmosphere that's scrambling our gear, get inside, disable that thing then beam back to the ship.”  His words made the three younger man exchange glances full of shock all of them stopping when they reached the entrance to shuttle bay five, Pike turning around to look at the other three.

“Commander Spock, I'm leaving you in command of the ship. Once we have transport capability and communications back up, you'll contact Star Fleet and report what the hell's happening here. Something you've got only precious few minutes to figure out. If all else fails, fall back and rendezvous with the fleet in the Laurentian System.” While Spock’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak, Pike looked at Jim, completely ignoring the Vulcan’s distress. “Kirk, I'm promoting you to First Officer in wake of Commander Spock’s imminent promotion.”

“What happened to my not being cleared for active duty?”  Jim snapped in shock, and the right corner of Pike’s lips tilted up.

“Captain?” Spock echoed Jim’s shock, somehow telling everyone that he was doubting the Captain’s sanity with that single word.

“While I'm gone we need to keep the chain of command.”  Pike drawled in rampant amusement despite the dire situation, obviously enjoying the shock he could see on all three faces in front of him. “And you two make a swell team.”

“Captain. Please. I apologize, but the complexities of human pranks escape me.” Pike chuckled and clapped Spock’s shoulder.  “Mr. Kirk could still be undergoing trauma from his ill-reaction to the vaccine.”

“It's not a prank, Spock.”  Pike assured the perturbed Vulcan. “And I'm not the Captain. You are,” he stepped into the entry-chamber of the shuttle, but the door was stopped by Jim.

“Once we knock out that machine...”  He gulped looking straight in Pike’s eyes. “Sir, what happens to you?

“I guess you'll have to come get me…”  He winked at Jim and Sulu before looking at Spock again. “Careful with the ship. She's brand new.”  That said Pike nodded at Jim to step back which the new First Officer did, and Pike spoke just before the door closed: “Suit up, gentlemen!”

…

“You have the charges?”  Jim asked the Chief Engineer who nodded, taking a deep breath and relaxing in his seat.

“Of course,” Jim snorted and looked at Sulu, both of them taking their helmets.

“So what kinda combat training d'you have?” Jim asked and Sulu halted in putting on his helmet.

“Fencing,” he stated and put his helmet on while Jim started at him completely dumbfounded.

“... fencing…?”

…

“Dr. Puri, report!” Spock ordered the moment he was sitting in the captain’s chair, frowning when he heard unarticulated shouting on the other side.

“It’s McCoy!” Spock’s frown deepened when Leonard’s voice came from the speakers. “Dr. Puri was on Deck 6, he’s dead!”

“Then you have just inherited his responsibility as Chief Medical Officer.” Spock informed his friend and heard him sigh before accepting his new duties.

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.” The link was cut and Spock looked at Chekov.

“Keep the team in sight, we need to know the moment our transportation and communication systems are cleared.”  Spock said in order and the young officer nodded. “Put everything on screen.”

“Aye, Comm…Keptin.” Chekov answered, immediately doing as he was told, everyone keeping their eyes on the view-screen, and no one noticing that Spock was focused on one particular window, watching out for his young friend even as he jumped headlong into danger.

…

“Gentlemen, we're approaching the drop zone. You have one shot to land on that platform. They may have defenses, so pull your chute as late as possible.”  Came the orders over the comm.

“Get ready, boys!” The Chief Engineer’s voice came over the speakers built into the helmet and all three of them moved to the jumping hatch. “Keep your eyes on me, and don’t do anything stupid.” Olson instructed as they got ready to jump.

“Remember, the Enterprise won’t be able to beam you up until you disable that drill. Good luck.” Their Captain addressed them, and all three took deep breaths. “3... 2... 1.” The hatch opened and all of a sudden they were falling, falling faster than anyone could imagine in a violent freefall towards the planet.

“Approaching the platform at 5800 meters!” The numbers were changing so quickly on Jim’s visor that his mind was spinning.

“5000 meters!” Olson’s calm voice cleared Jim’s mind.

“4600 to platform!” Jim managed to report, the g’s pulling at him.

“4100 to platform!” Sulu’s voice followed.

“3500 meters! Heads up, boys!” Olson snapped and the two copied him after the Chief did a summersault, falling feet first.  “2000 meters! Pull the chute!”

Three chutes opened in quick succession, the three officers manipulating them against the harsh winds.

“SULU!” Jim shouted and both of them turned around to see Sulu rolling towards the ledge, but the helmsman managed to retract his chute and catch himself before he fell.

“Chief, watch out!!” Sulu cried out a second too late, the sound of a phaser rifle being fired startling Jim and Olson, and making the Chief Engineer fall back with a grunt of pain.

Two Romulans were advancing towards them, guns blazing, and while Jim hurried to aid Olson, Sulu was quick to engage the two into a fight.

“Fuck!”  Jim cursed when he saw the gaping hole in the Chief’s side where the charges should be and the blank look in the man’s eyes.

“Kirk!!” Sulu called out before stepping back and grabbing something off of his belt. A second later he was holding a collapsible katana, the Romulan facing him recoiling for a moment, before he grinned and charged at Sulu.

It was over in a matter of seconds with the Romulan falling off of the platform and into the red beam connected to the ground, disintegrating instantly into less than atoms.

“Go to hell!” Sulu looked to the right in time to see Jim head-butting the last Romulan, and Sulu rushed forward, managing to catch Jim’s belt right before the First Officer fell over the edge. “Thanks!” Jim said, glancing at the katana in Sulu’s hand which he reassembled and attached to his belt. “Fencing, right?”

Sulu snorted and both of them rushed over to the control panel.

“None of this is familiar!”  Jim swore.  “The interface, the controls…”

“What happened to the charges?” Sulu asked.

“The Romulans managed to shoot them and the Chief.”  Jim tugged at his air.

“What do we do now?!”  Sulu asked, eyes panicked as Jim stood up from studying the controls, then widening when Jim grabbed his phaser and shot at the interface.

“That.”

“That works.”  Sulu had to concede.

…

“The jamming signal's gone!” Uhura cried out in relief, hands dancing over the control board in front of her. “Communications are re-established!”

“Transporter control re-engaged!” Chekov spoke brightly.

“Chekov, run gravitational sensors…”

“Kirk to Enterprise, over!”

“We hear you loud and clear, Officer Kirk.” Spock answered calmly, studying the sensors still on the screen.

“Start emergency evacuation! Whatever they did to the planet isn’t over yet!”

“We must first run the scanners…”

“For fuck’s sake, Spock, for once in your life do the second thing first! The people are more important than research!”  Everyone looked at Spock, frozen in their places, waiting to see how the Acting Captain would react to Kirk’s impatient outburst.

“Contact Vulcan High Council. Order immediate evacuation.”  Spock ordered after a distinct pause looking at Chekov who appeared somewhat taken aback. “Chekov, do I need to repeat my order?”

“Aye, Commander! I mean Keptin, sorry!” Chekov turned in his chair. “Aye, Keptin,” he muttered with a wince, not seeing Spock looking at the view-screen with something dangerously close to a frown. A moment later he turned around and took a seat in the Captain’s chair, immediately turning on the communicator.

“Bridge to Transport. Bring them back to the Ship.”

“Aye, Captain.”

…

“I don’t think Spock appreciates being talked to in that manner,” Sulu drawled with an arched brow and Jim snorted, glancing at him from under dusty lashes.

“The stoic prick doesn’t appreciate a lot of things, Sulu. Luckily, I am one of the few things he does.”  Sulu snorted, but before he could comment on the irreverent – but friendly display of rancor, a big canister fell right beside them making both of them tense.

…

“Kirk to Enterprise. They just launched something at the planet. Through the hole they just drilled. Do you copy, Enterprise?”

“Yes, sir.” answered a Commander.

“Captain, gravitational sensors are off the scale…” informed Chekov with worry. “If my calculations are correct, that pod they launched is creating a singularity… that will consume the planet.”

Spock’s face remained stoic as he assessed the situation.

“They’re creating a black hole… at the center of Vulcan?”  Spock confirmed calmly.

“… yes, sir.”

“How long does the planet have?”

“Minutes, sir. I would say minutes.”

Spock looked at the young prodigy for a second without reaction before standing from his chair and walking towards Uhura.

“Tell transportation to beam up Misters Kirk and Sulu, _now_. Alert Vulcan Command Centre to signal a planet wide evacuation —all channels, all frequencies. Maintain standard orbit…”

“What? Spock, wait.” called Uhura following him to the lift. “Where are you going?”

“To evacuate the Vulcan High Council. They’re tasked with protecting our cultural history. My parents will be among them…”

“You can’t beam them out?”

“It’s not possible. They’ll be in the Katrik Arc.  I must get them myself.  Chekov, you have the control.”

The doors of the lift closed again, separating the crew and the Vulcan.

“Aye. Uh, yay.” muttered the prodigy turning back to the console.

“Kirk to Enterprise. Get us out of here!”  Shouted a voice through the comm, reminding them of the others.

The drill platform suddenly began to move and Sulu over-balanced.  Kirk ran after them, jumping down while shouting his name.

Kirk managed to grab Sulu during the fall, but was too busy to pull his chute, sending them into a freefall.  He closed his eyes for a brief second but he knew he couldn’t let go, ordering Sulu to pull his chute.  The load was too much for the over-taxed equipment, snapping the chute’s supports and sending them plummeting once more towards the ground.

“Enterprise, we’re falling without a chute! Beam us up! Beam us up!”  He shouted frantically, Sulu holding on for dear life.

“I’m trying! I can’t lock on your signal! You’re falling too fast!”

“… no. I can do zat.” Said another voice - Chekov. “I can do zat!”

Kirk and Sulu saw the approaching floor with wide terrified eyes.

“Enterprise, where are you!?”

“Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on…”

“Now, now, now! Do it now!”

“Compensating grawvitational pull and… gotcha!”

Kirk and Sulu were engulfed by a bright white light just as they were about to hit the floor. They slammed into the Enterprises’ transportation pads with a heavy thud.

The two Commanders pulled themselves up from the floor, relieved.

“… thanks.”  Sulu said, falling against the wall heavily, refinding his voice after the terrifying ride.

“… yeah, not a problem.”  Kirk answered, shaking off the adrenalin-laced daze.

…

Spock raced through the tunnels as the world shook around. Finally, he arrived at the massive Ark Chamber. Atop the enormous stairs five Vulcan elders stood, his father between them, their minds melded with the ark.

His mother was there too, kneeling beside Sarek.  She was the first to notice him running towards them and she stood up.

“Spock!”

The half Vulcan rushed up the stairs.

“The planet’s not safe, it has only seconds left. We must evacuate. Mother, now!”

Spock took her hand and they all run towards the exit as the statues around them began to collapse, killing some of those present.

They reached the tunnels, Spock at the head of the group gripping his mother tightly at his side and Sarek following closely behind. Some were left back as the tunnel too began to fall down around them.

Finally, they managed to exit the crumbling Chamber and stood on the stone surface of the planet, seeing their world being engulfed by chaos. It was an equally terrifying and fascinating sight.

“Spock to Enterprise. Get us out now!”

“Locking on you. Don’t move. Stay right where you are.”  Instructed Chekov.

The glow that indicated a transportation began to surround them as they waited.

“Transport in five… four… three… two…”

The collapse of the cliff approached their location fast.  Spock’s logical part realized what was going to happen as Amanda turned around to look at him, her eyes wide.  Their gaze’s locked and her eyes softened.

“It’s okay. to be scared.” Whispered she quietly.

A slight smile was on her lips as she fell and the half Vulcan lifted an arm towards her, but it was too late.

“No, no!”

A bright orange light, like a fire, was the last thing he saw before dematerializing.

…

“I’m losing her. I’m losing her.”  Chekov muttered frantically, hands racing over the board. “I’m losing her! No… I’ve lost her.”

They looked up, faces solemn, to see the Vulcans materialize in the transportation pads. All but one. Spock’s arm was still raised, as if reaching for someone. His face was frozen in shock.

Spock looked at the empty pad in front of his and then at the crew members standing in the room.

“We failed…”  Kirk whispered under his breath, shaking his head.

“But the people of Vulcan were saved,” Spock contradicted Jim who pressed his teeth tightly together, jaw shifting minutely. “What we need to do now is to find out where Nero is going next, inform the Star Fleet, and prepare our defenses.”

“What’s your plan…?”

…

 “Lieutenant, have you confirmed that Nero is headed for Earth?” Spock asked, receiving an answer almost immediately.

“Their trajectory suggests no other destination, Captain,” Uhura answered and Spock nodded, looking to Jim and Leo who stood beside Sulu’s post, the helmsman facing Spock just like everyone else on the bridge.

“Earth may be his next stop, but we have to assume every Federation planet's a target,” Jim suggested, Chekov agreeing almost immediately.

“But why didn't they destroy us?”  The young genius asked.

“Why waste a weapon? We weren't a threat.”  Sulu added.

“That's not it,” Spock answered and everyone looked at him, finding the Acting Captain staring at the ground with a thoughtful frown. “He said he wanted me to see something. The destruction of my home planet.”

“And how the hell did they do that by the way?”  Bones grumbled crossing his arms over his chest while Jim glanced at him over his shoulder. “When did they jump so far ahead in the arms race?”

“The engineering comprehension necessary to artificially create a black hole may suggest the answer: such technology could theoretically be manipulated to create a tunnel through space and time.”

“Damnit, man, I'm a doctor, not a physicist! Are you suggesting they're from the future?” Leo snapped incredulously.

“That is what he's suggesting.”  Jim said.  “But it wouldn’t do for such technology to fall into enemy hands, and the Federation has never been stupid when it comes to sharing and caring with warlike races.”  Jim looked at Spock.  “That’s why I find it hardly believable that the Romulans somehow got their hands on a weapon from the future.”

“If you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains - however improbable - must be the truth.”

“How poetic,” was McCoy’s doubtful answer to Spock’s conclusion.

“Then what would a future angry Romulan want with Captain Pike?” Jim aimed the question at Spock.

“As Captain he knows details of Star Fleet's defenses,” Sulu suggested making everyone frown.

“We need to get Pike back,” Jim muttered rubbing his face with his hands.

“That would be a highly risky endeavor,” Spock said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing to Jim’s surprise. “Captain Pike did order us to rendezvous with the fleet on the other side of the quadrant. We're technologically outmatched in every way. A rescue attempt would be illogical.”

“Not to mention we couldn't do it anyway,” Chekov spoke up. “Nero's ship would have to drop out of warp for us to overtake them.”

“What about assigning Engineering crews to try and boost our warp yield?” Jim suggested and Spock shook his head.

“Remaining power and crew are being used to repair radiation leaks on the lower decks and damage to the main deflector shield-- without which we cannot communicate with Star Fleet.”

“Okay, but there's gotta be some way!” Jim insisted and Spock raised an eyebrow at him.

“Our best option right now is to meet the rest of Star Fleet to balance the terms of our next engagement…”

“There won't be a next engagement!” Jim spoke, his patience running out. “Spock, by the time we've "gathered", it'll be too late! How many planets are you willing to risk? You say he's from the future? Knows what's gonna happen? Then the logical thing is to be unpredictable,” Jim pressed and Spock frowned at him, the rest of the crew watching the exchange between the two men who couldn’t possibly be any different than they were.

“You are assuming Nero knows how events are predicted to unfold. The contrary: Nero's very presence has altered the flow of history, beginning with the attack on the U.S.S. Kelvin, culminating in the events of today, thereby creating a new chain of incidents that cannot be anticipated by either party.”

“Does anyone understand him?” Leo snapped in frustration.

“An alternate reality?” Uhura spoke up and Spock nodded.

“Precisely…”

 “…Whatever lives we might have lived, if the time continuum was disrupted, our destinies have changed.” As though coming to a decision Spock took a seat in the Captain’s chair, sitting straight, although there was something about him that told an observant viewer that the Acting Captain felt somewhat grave. “Mr. Sulu, plot a course for the Laurentian system, Warp Factor Three…”

“Wait, don't do that!” Jim jumped forward completely missing the shocked look everyone was giving him. “Spock, running back to the rest of the fleet for a confab is a massive waste of time…”

“These were the orders Captain Pike issued when he left ship…”

“He also ordered us to go back and get him! Spock, you're Captain now!”

“I am aware of my responsibilities, Mr. Kirk!” Jim either didn’t see or didn’t care that the Vulcan in front of him was getting angrier by the second.

“Every second we waste Nero's getting closer to his next target…”

“That is why I'm instructing you to accept that I alone am in command...”

“I will not allow us to go backwards, away from the problem, instead of hunting Nero down!” Jim shouted, shaking everyone up, feeling a shiver of dread passing down his spine when Spock’s brown eyes suddenly turned to glaciers.

“Then I must remove you from this ship.”  He spoke, although something told Jim that there was more to this than Spock would let on, which was entirely too strange to Jim, since he still firmly believed that Spock didn’t in fact feel anything very much of the time, despite their wobbly friendship.

For crying out loud, his planet was just destroyed and he was acting as though nothing happened!

“Spock, look…”

“If I confine you to the brig, you'll likely escape,” Spock cut Jim off, and even the blond wasn’t oblivious enough to miss the slight wavering of Spock’s voice. “Mr. Chekov, have transportation prepare a deployment capsule. Mr. Sulu…”

…

Jim came awake slowly, after being knocked-out by his so-called friend.  Damned logic-loving bastard.  They were going to have words when they came out of the other side of this.

“Computer...where am I?”  He asked groggily.

A mechanical voice answered:  “Current location Delta Vega: Class "M" Planet, unsafe. You have been ordered to remain in your pod until retrieved by Starfleet authorities.”

Kirk rolled his eyes, fiddling with the wires and controls until he found the emergency hatch release.

“Bite me, how's that?”

The canopy of the pod slowly rose heralding a blast of cold air hitting Kirk.  With some agony from the landing and the nerve-pinch, out he went climbing up the tube and snow, finally reaching the planet surface.  Looking out he did a three-sixty turn in disbelief.  Spock had dropped him in the middle of fucking nowhere.

“SONOFABITCH-BITCH-BITCH! THERE'S NOTHING HERE!!! YOU NECK-PINCHING MOTHERF--!!!”  He swore the frigid air blue as he started trudging through the snow. 

“Lieutenant's log, supplemental: I'm preparing a testimonial for my Starfleet court martial assuming there's still a Starfleet left.  Acting Captain Spock -- whose only form of expression's apparently limited to his left damn eyebrow.”  No matter how many times Jim has tried to crack that damned Vulcan mask of his.  “Has marooned me on Delta Vega in what I believe to be a violation of security protocol 49.09, governing the treatment of prisoners aboard a st…”

Kirk freezes at a nearby growl, turning slowly and taking a step back at the sight of the ugly love-child of a polar bear and a gorilla.

…

Sometime later after being chased by polarilla and then a red-eyed monster out of a bad D-rated horror flick, Jim laid on the ground, freaked out down to his bones and panting from his run as he stares up at the figure that had just chased off the D-vid freak.

“The Hen-Gra.”  The figure – man – said with a scary kind of calmness.  “Notoriously afraid of heat.”

Wait a second…  Jim thought to himself slowly rising.  He knew that voice…

“Spock?”  He asked dazedly, seeing that face – but older somehow, lit in the darkness by the fire. He looks at Kirk, moving closer at the sound of Jim’s voice.  And seeing who it was, was amazed.

“Jim?”  He asked confused, brown eyes soft with puzzlement.  “What are you doing here?  How did you find me--? Does Starfleet know of my presence?”

“How do you know my name?”  Kirk demanded, freaked out by the Spock-not-Spock before him.

Spock looks deep into the eyes of the freaked out young man, feeling the full effect of fate playing its hand, but realizing he doesn't understand what was occurring.  This Jim didn’t yet have the utter belief in the unbelievable that their many adventures together had engendered in them both.  A shame.

“I have been... and always shall be...your friend.”  His words were soft, matching the caring look in those normally diamond-hard eyes.

Kirk shook his head, denying what was right before him.  “No, look, I don't know you -- the only Vulcan or even I know isn't exactly a buddy at the moment.”

“You are James T. Kirk.”

“I don’t understand…”

“I am Spock. One hundred and thirty years senior to the Vulcan you know.”

Jim felt his heart pound, eyes wide.  “Bullshit.”

Firelight flickers sending the shadows of Kirk and Spock Prime dancing on the ice walls.

“It's remarkably pleasing to see you again, Jim.”  Spock Prime looked up at the remarkable night stars, feeling every ounce of the grief Nero had wished upon him.  “Especially after the events of today.”

“Old friend?”  Kirk arched a brow, shaking his head.  “Look, I don’t know what you remember but me and you?”  He flicked a finger between them.  “We just started becoming friends a couple months back.  And at the moment.”  He flung his arms wide in a dramatic gesture Bones would roll his eyes over.  “You’re not my biggest fan having marooned me here for mutiny.”

Spock Prime was taken aback.  “Mutiny?  You are not the Captain?”

 “You're the captain.” Jim said with just a tinge of bitterness.  “Pike was taken hostage.”

“... by Nero.”  Spock Prime supplied with a sigh.

“What do you know about him?”  Jim asked, eyes sharp.  If this Spock was from the future, he must have valuable information.

Spock Prime’s voice was grave, even guilty.  “... he is a remarkably troubled Romulan.”  He seemed to come to a decision.  “Please. Allow me - it will be easier…”  He reached for Kirk's face, Jim stopping him with a grab at his wrist.

“What're you doing--?”  A skeptical beat, but Kirk finally released his companion’s hand. 

“It will be easier…”

Spock gently places his fingers on Kirk's cheek and whispered.  “Our minds... one and together...One hundred and twenty-seven years from now everything ends…”

…

Jim gasped, coming back to himself, mind whirling with everything Spock Prime had shown him.  The Narada, the supernova, the end of Romulus…everything.  Including the events that led up to Spock and Nero’s arrival in the timeline.  Kirk stares at him... his mind spinning because now he believes him. The result is overwhelmingly emotional.

“Forgive me.”  Spock closed his eyes tightly and looked away from his young old-friend.  “Emotional transference is an effect of the mind meld.”

Kirk held in an inappropriate chuckle, staring at his old new-friend in sympathy.

“So you do feel, even after knowing you for over a year…I wasn’t quite sure.”

Spock gave a small knowing smile, arching his eyebrow.  "Cthia is the stricture that binds our emotions... but few of us are that perfectly Vulcan.”

 Kirk gathered himself, wiping his eyes on his sleeve...

 “Going back in time... you changed all our lives, that of everyone in the universe.”

His companion’s voice was markedly fascinated.  “Yet remarkably, events within our timelines, characteristics, people... seem to overlap significantly. Tell me about the rest of the crew? Chekov- Uhura --?”

“Tactical and Communications,” Jim shook his head, the physics boggling his mind.

“Sulu?”

“He's the helmsman, why?”

“Dr. McCoy would assert our meeting here is not a matter of coincidence... but rather, indication of a higher purpose.”

Jim cracked a smile.

“He'd call it a damn miracle.”

“Yes he would. Perhaps the time stream's way of attempting to mend itself. In both our histories, the same crew found its way onto the same ship in a time of ultimate crisis -- therein lies our advantage.”  Spock Prime rose to his feet, picking up a bag and throwing it over his shoulder, an idea sparking.  “We must go-- there's a Starfleet outpost not far from here.”

Kirk stood, reaching out a hand and halting him in his tracks, a question burning deep within his mind.

“Where you came from... did I know my father?”

“Yes.”  Spock watched him carefully.  “You often spoke of him as your inspiration for joining Starfleet.”

Jim found himself temporarily speechless, staring off into the distance.  He couldn’t even begin to image what that life might be like.  What he would be like.

“You should know.”  Spock’s voice was gentle with his understanding of his young-old-friend’s dilemma.  “He proudly lived to see you become Captain of the Enterprise.”

 Of everything, that almost took Jim aback the most.  “Captain?”  He asked, blinking.

“A ship we must return you to as soon as possible.”

…

Sulu manned the control of the Enterprise.

“Warp three. Course one-five-one mark three, the Laurentian System.”

The turbolift opened with a hiss, McCoy entering and strode with carefully bridled fury over to his – he thought – friend.

“You wanted to see me?”  He bit out.

Spock looked up from his PADD.  “Yes, Doctor.  I'm aware that James Kirk is a friend of yours, as he is of mine. Supporting one friend over another as you did, must have been difficult.”

Leo stared down at the green-blooded-hobgoblin for a long moment.  Wow.  And he thought he had issues.  When Jim got back they were going to have to put the pointy-eared-bastard through a friendship primer.  “Are you thanking me?”

“I'm simply acknowledging your difficulties.”

Bones nodded shortly, holding in the urge to smack the stoic idiot on the back of his hard head.

“Permission to speak freely, Sir?”  He drawled, eyes bright with irritation at both of the infants that had forced him into this position.

“I welcome it.”  Spock answered with real warmth for the man that had proven to be a fount of sound advice…mostly.

“Do you? Okay then: are you out of your Vulcan mind?”  He kept his voice low, almost rasping the accusation to keep it out of the ears and the gossip of the crew.  “Were you doing the logical thing? Maybe. The right one?  Debatable. But one thing's for damn sure -- that kid doesn't know how to lose.  Just isn't in his DNA. Back home we have a saying: "If you're gonna ride in the Kentucky Derby, don't leave your prize stallion in the stable."

Spock cocked his head to one side, eyeing the occasionally volatile brunette.  “A curious metaphor, Doctor. As a stallion must first be broken before it can reach its potential.”

Bones held in a groan.  Somedays – and this was one of them – it was like talking to the damn wall.  “My God, Man... you could at least act like it was a hard decision to maroon a man who is both of our friends.”

“I intended to assist in the effort to re-establish communication with Starfleet. However, if crew morale would be better served by my roaming the halls weeping, I'll gladly defer to your medical expertise.”  Spock nearly bit out, sucking in a breath and pushing his emotions back down, turning away as the lift doors hissed open, Spock’s father Sarek entering the bridge.

…

A fucking blizzard.  Jim couldn’t believe it.  He and old-Spock moved through the white-out, following some freaky Vulcan voodoo that the other was using to guide them.

“I am _so pissed off_ at the other you right now!”  He shouted over the wind and storm.

Spock Prime points, Jim’s wind-watering eyes following the finger.  An outpost.

…

Entering the long tile corridor, coming in from the snow and wind, Kirk looked around, seeing nothing but an abandoned post.

“Hello?”  He called out, Spock Prime at his back as they made their way farther into the building.  At least it was out of the blizzard.

“Can I help you?”

Kirk blinked down at the spiky-faced creature talking up at him, Spock Prime taking control of the situation before his young-old-friend’s mouth could get them _both_ in trouble.                  

“Are you the station chief?”

The alien looked them over before giving what was almost a sigh and waving them after him, answering:

“No, this way.”

Dogging his heels, they eventually enter a large warehouse filled with mostly junk parts and a broken-down shuttle, a sleeping Starfleet officer with his feet up on a desk, hat covering his face.  The alien Starfleet member tapping the officer on the foot in an attempt to wake him up in the face of their “guests.”

“Hm.”  The officer grunted out, not fully awake.

“Visitors.”  His subordinate said shortly, crossing his arms over his small but stout chest.

There was a long beat as the officer looked up at them from under his hat before dropping his feet back down onto the floor and speaking.

“You realize how unacceptable this is.”  It was a blunt statement, not a question like it might seem.

“Excuse me?”  Kirk was taken aback.

Spock cocked his head, studying the officer musingly.  “Fascinating.”

“What?”  Jim looked at his companion in confusion.  What was fascinating about a drowsy, irritated Scotsman of a Starfleet officer?

The Starfleet officer stood, his smaller subordinate watching warily.

“I'm sure it's no' your fault, and I know youse lads are just doing your jobs, but could you no' have come a wee bit sooner?!”  The officer made an exasperated wave of his arms while Spock watched him like a particularly interesting science experiment.  “Six months I've been living on nothing but Starfleet Protein Nibs and the promise of a real food delivery! Six months, boys! It's pretty clear what's going on here, isn't it? Punishment! Ongoing! For something that was clearly an accident!”

The officer finally got a response…but it wasn’t the one he expected.

“You're Montgomery Scott.”  Spock said with surety.

“You know him?”  Kirk asked, brows furrowed as he tried to make heads or tails of the strange officer before him.

“Yes, that's me -- Scotty-- you're in the right place-- are there any other hard-working and equally-starving Starfleet officers around?”

His companion answered the rhetorical question.  “Me.”

Scotty gave Keenser a dirty look.

“You eat nothing.”  He held his thumb and forefinger a fraction apart.  “A bean and you're done for a week, I need food. And now you're here -- so. Thank you. Where is it?”

“You are in fact the Mr. Scott who postulated the theory of trans-warp beaming.”  Kirk had to admire Spock’s – both old and young – ability to stay on-point.

“Yes!”  Scotty waved his arms.  “That's exactly what I'm talking about! How d'ya think I ended up here?  I got into a debate with my instructor on the issue of Relativistic Physics as they pertain to subspace travel... He seemed to think that the range of transporting say, a roast turkey, was limited to a few hundred miles -- so I told my instructor I could not only beam a bird from one planet to an adjacent planet in the same system -- which is no big deal anyway -- but if I were so inclined I could actually do it with a lifeform! So I tested it on Admiral Archer's prize beagle.”  Scotty sighed.  “Which... was a mistake.”

Kirk arched a brow, amused at the verbal-vomit.  “I know that dog.  What happened to it?”

Scotty slumped back into his chair, fire going back out.  “I'll tell ya when it reappears.  Dunno.”  He shrugged.  “Feel guilty.”

Ever focused, Spock Prime brought the topic back around.

“What if I told you your trans-warp theory was correct? That it is indeed possible to beam onto a ship that is travelling at warp speed. And that you only required the correct field equation to recrystallize dilithium?”

The Engineer in question scoffed.

“I haven't been stationed here that long.  If such an equation had been discovered, I'da heard.”

Spock’s eyes danced, enjoying the banter.  “The reason you haven't heard of it, Mr. Scott... is because you haven't discovered it yet.”

Kirk jerked, not expecting Spock to just…come out with that.  Scotty is almost spooked sobering up a bit, giving Spock Prime the full force of his regard for a moment before turning skeptical, _amused_.

“Y'from the future, are ya? Brilliant.”  He rolled his eyes.  “D'they still have sandwiches where you're from? Piece and jam? Mince 'n tatties?  Cockaleekie soup?”

“What is he talking about?”  Kirk asked looking down at Scotty’s companion.

“Food.”

Spock failed to fall onto the bait.  “Allow us access to your shuttle... and I will show you what a genius you actually are.”

…

“She's a wee bit dodgy,” Scotty explained as he tugged a patched tarp off of the shuttle in question.  “Shield emitters are totally banjaxed, along wi' a few other things.”

The others clustered around the transporter control panel as Spock Prime took the seat and started typing in field equations lightning-fast.

Scotty arched his brows as he watched in surprise.  “... rapid.   That's impressive.”

Spock Prime stepped aside:  “Your equation for achieving trans-warp beaming.”

Engineer Montgomery Scott looked down at the equations his expressions running the gamut from confused, to dumbfounded, to quiet awe and delight before exclaiming:

“Imagine that! Never occurred to me to think of space as the part that's moving.”

Spock gave a small chuckle.  “Point of fact: it did occur to you.”  Stepping back over to the console and doing some quick figuring.  “Extrapolating Enterprise's course…”

“Enterprise?”  Scotty asked with keen interest.  “Had its maiden voyage already, has it? Well, you must've done something right to be assigned to that ship, Kiddo.”  He said in envy to Jim.  “She's a well endowed lady -- love to get my hands on her ample nacelles, if you'll pardon the engineering parlance.”

“Now's your chance, Mr. Scott.”  Spock Prime said in offer.

“Look, even if I believed you,” Scotty tugged anxiously at his hair.  “Where you're from, what I've done-- which I don't,” he was quick to qualify.  “We're still talkin' bout sling-shotting aboard while she's going faster than light. Without a proper receiving pad, that's like…”  He trailed off before coming up with a comparison.  “Tryin'a hit a bullet with a smaller bullet, wearing a blindfold.”  He mulled it over for a second then added: “On a horse.”

“I calculate no more than a four-meter margin of error.” Spock countered calm-as-can-be.

Scotty rolled his eyes, quickly seeing the problem with that calculation.  “That's all well and good unless you rematerialize four meters outside the ship.”

As Spock worked the keyboard, a schematic of the _Enterprise_ rotated.

“Agreed.”  The Vulcan said with a sharp nod.  “The aft engineering bay is your best option: a large space and no unpredictable airlocks…”

Jim interrupted him, not liking the sound of that.

“You're coming with us, right?”

“No, Jim.”  Spock Prime stared up at his young-old-friend.  “My destiny lies along a different path.”

“You have to come with me!”  Jim exclaimed, eyes wide.  “You have to explain…”

Spock frowned.  “Under no circumstances can you…”

“…there’s no _way_ he’ll believe, me…”

“You must promise me, Jim.”  Spock was firm on that point.  “The other me can’t know of my existence.”

Kirk made an exasperated sound low in his throat.  “You're telling me I can't tell you I'm following your own orders? Why not?”  He tried to follow the Vulcan-logic as he’d learned to do – somewhat – over the previous months of being around the other Spock.  “What happens?”

“Trust me.”  Spock Prime urged.  “Above all. Jim, this is the one rule you cannot break. To stop Nero, you alone must take command of your ship.”

Jim groaned, throwing up his hands.  “How, over your dead body?”

“Preferably not.”  He chuckled.  “There is, however, Starfleet Regulation 619.”

Spock received a _look_ from his young friend.  He sighed, explaining.  “Yes. I forget what little regard you had for such things. 619 states that any commanding officer who is emotionally compromised by the mission at hand... must resign said command.”

“So I need to emotionally compromise you?”  Kirk had followed the explanation with a deep scowl.  It sounded impossible.

“Jim.”  Spock clasped the younger man, holding on to his lean shoulders.  “I just lost my planet. I can tell you.  I am emotionally compromised.  Enough so to send away a friend to make a point.”

Jim cracked a smirk at that.

“What you must do... is get me to show it.”

…    

“Aye, then. Live or die, Laddie, let's get this over with.”  Scotty moved to stand on the transporter pad.  “The Enterprise has a decent cafeteria I'm guessing.”

Rolling his eyes, Jim moved to stand next to the effervescent Scotsman.  Turning to look back at his old-new-friend he gave one of his infamous irreverent grins, speaking in a conspirational whisper.

“You know...”  He drawled.  “Coming back in time... changing history... that's cheating.”

Spock Prime chuckled.  “A trick I learned from an old friend.”

Lifting his hand, Spock gave his friend his customary salute.

“Live long,” he said.  “And prosper, my old friend.”

…

On the bridge of the _Enterprise_ , an alarm flashes.

Chekov called out to Spock at the sight:  “Keptin, we're detecting unauthorized access to a water turbine control board!”

Leaving his father’s side, Spock moved to the young genius’s side.

“Bring up video.”  He ordered, looking up at the bridge screen.

Staring at the vid of a _very_ familiar figure running through the ship’s corridors – with company - Spock's eyes narrow.  Moving to the Captain’s chair he hits the comm, ordering the engineering deck sealed and the intruders brought to the bridge – alive.

…

The turbo lift doors open with a whoosh revealing Kirk and guest to the gathered bridge crew along with Sarek and Leo.  Spock moves over to confront his current pain-in-the-ass, brow arched in consternation at the sight of the smirk on Jim’s face.

“Surprise.”  Kirk said with mock-excitement, smug attitude firmly in place.  He knew how much it drove Spock nuts when he got all uppity.

Rather than deal with Jim – and give him the satisfaction of his attention which he was clearly angling for – Spock turned to the unknown.

“Who are you?”  He demanded from the dripping-wet man.

“He’s with me.”  Kirk blocked Spock’s view of the Engineer.

“We’re travelling at warp.”  Spock’s head swung between the two officers as he tried to get to the bottom of this new issue.  “How did you manage to get aboard this ship?”

Jim cocked his head to one side, better able to read young Spock after spending hours with his friend’s older counterpart.  Huh.  You really could _see_ the emotion if you knew what to look for.  It was just buried so deep that most wouldn’t even bother.

“You’re the genius.”  He goaded the Vulcan.  “You figure it out.”

Spock made a barely-audible growl, his father arching a brow at the sound too-low for the humans to discern.

“As Captain of this vessel I _order_ you to answer the question.”

“Well,” Kirk folded his arms across his chest, amping up the smugness-factor.  “I’m not telling.”  He waited a beat.  “ _Captain._ ”

That confounded Spock, giving Jim the opening he’d been waiting and watching for.

“Does that frustrate you?  My lack of cooperation…does it make you _angry?”_

Aware that there was no dealing with Kirk in one of his _moods_ , Spock refocused on the officer still hidden behind him.

“You are _not_ a member of this ship’s crew.”  He pointed out.  “Under penalty of court martial, I order you to explain to me how you beamed ab…”

Only to get cut off by Jim’s direction to Scotty: “Don’t answer him.”

Another low growl.

“You _will_ answer me.”

Scotty weighed that for a long moment, eyes darting between the two of them.  Seeing for himself the younger version of the Vulcan he’d met mere moments before on another planet, here, younger, and Captain of the vessel…it tended to make a believer.  And the other Captain had been _very_ firm on his orders to his new friend.

“I’d rather not take sides.”  He said, looking anywhere but at the two verbal combatants.

Spock nodded, accepting that as a not-unreasonable answer in the other man’s situation.  Still…

“Escort them to the brig.”

Only for Kirk to jump in once more, deflecting the attention back to where he wanted it.

“What is it about you, Spock?”  He shook his head ruefully.  “You know, I actually thought, _stupidly_ enough.  That after six months of working hand-in-glove we were becoming friends.  And then you maroon me on a dangerous, ice-locked planet.”  He heaved a put-upon sigh.  “Your planet was just destroyed, _friend_.  Your mother murdered before your eyes.  And you’re not even upset?  Worried more about how _I_ escaped the possible _death-sentence_ you gave me?”

Spock blinked, not expecting the attack.  Or at least not for it to take that particular tone.

“Your presumption that these experiences interfere with my abilities to command this ship is inaccurate…”

Kirk snorted in response, knowing right where to turn the knife: exactly where their friendship began.

“Ha!  And yet you tried to tell _me_ that fear was necessary for command.  I mean…”  Kirk flung out an arm at the bridge screen.  “Did you _see_ that bastard’s ship?  Did you see what he _did_?”

The half-Vulcan tensed, flinching.

“Yes, of course I…”

Jim broke in with another salvo.

“So are you afraid or aren’t you?!”

Spock was so tense as to be confused with a statue, keeping control by a hairsbreadth over his raging tempest of emotion…that was pushing closer and closer to fury the longer his _friend_ hammered away at him.

“I will not…allow,” he swallowed.  “You to lecture me about the merits of emotion.”

Kirk edges closer to Spock, getting into his invisible ‘personal space’ that the Vulcan was always sure to keep around him.

“Then…”  He whispered, leaning in further.  “Why don’t you stop me?”

Sarek watched the tempestuous human, having an inkling of an idea about where this might be headed.  Leo studied them likewise, tensing to move if this turned ugly.

Before it could get out of hand, Spock blinked taking a small step backwards.

“Step away from me, Mr. Kirk.”  He demanded softly.

Jim ignored him, continuing to jab at Spock’s fleshy underbelly, this time in a musing tone.

“What is it like?  Not to feel?  Anger.  Or heartbreak?  Or the need to stop at _nothing_ to avenge the death of the woman who gave birth to you?”  Jim shook his head.  “I thought there was _more_ to you than that, _Captain Spock_.”

Sarek gave a wince at that, using one of the expressions he’d picked up from twenty years of living with a human wife.  Yes.  He rather thought he was onto the man’s game now.

Spock answered with a volcanic hiss.

“ _Back away_.”

Still paying no attention to his friend’s demands, Kirk moved even closer, nearly chest-to-chest and nose-to-nose with the seething half-Vulcan.

“You must not feel anything!  It must not even _compute_ for you!  You _must_ not have loved her _at all…”_

Wham!

Before Jim could regroup, trying for another tactic, Spock snaps.  Nailing him with a wicked right-cross to the jaw, Kirk totters back before going to repay the Vulcan in kind.  However, Spock was taking no prisoners, his temper not something to trifle with.

Unleashing a flurry of blows, Spock batters Jim all the way back against the smooth chrome wall of the ship, Jim doing the best he can to block the most powerful of the blows.  A single punch from a Vulcan – especially one in full-fury – can break bones and snap ribs on a human combatant.    Getting Spock to resign was all well and good…but not if it meant he was too broken in turn to take command of the ship.

The others on the bridge simply watched in stunned silence as the Captain did his best impression of a raging maniac.  Until, that is, Spock wrapped those elegant hands around Jim Kirk’s irritating neck.  Slamming him against the chrome wall, Spock made a damned good attempt at choking the life from one of his only friends

Sarek called out, the only one with the ability to pull himself from his shock and intervene before the _Enterprise_ was down both a Captain and a First Officer – one for murder and the other for _being_ murdered.

“Spock!”

Everything – everything – stops.

Spock, face tinted green from having his copper-rich blood up, released his grip, staggering back.

Jim gulped in air as his windpipe was released, tumbling to the ground and sucking in air.  Hardly able to speak and on the verge of collapsing, he looks up at Spock out of his beaten face.  His expression surprised those who saw it – nearly as much as the beating that just taken place – filled with not spite or hatred to match his previous words but with compassion for his friend.

Staring around him in a daze, Spock saw it all.  Jim’s compassion – something he wasn’t even close to understanding at that moment – the stunned looks of the crew.  But worst of all…his father.  Sarek.  Leveling his chin, he wiped his eyes, not even noticing beforehand in the midst of his fury that he was starting to silently cry in his grief.

Turning to McCoy, he spoke his voice soft.

“Doctor.  I am no longer fit for duty.  I hereby relinquish my command on the grounds that I have been…emotionally compromised.”  He sucked in a breath, gathering the tatters of his dignity.  “Please note the time and date in the ship’s log.”

Spock just…quit.  After a beat, he strode from the room, bearing with him his overwhelming grief.  At his heels his father Sarek followed, leaving the crew in stunned silence.

A moment later…

“I like this ship.”  Scotty piped up looking around at the gobsmacked expressions the bridge crew were sporting.  “It’s exciting.”

Leo turned to Kirk rolling his eyes in exasperation, though at Scotty’s announcement or at Jim’s latest boneheaded play even he wasn’t entirely sure.

“Congratulations, Jim.”  He tossed out.  “Now we’ve got no Captain and no First Officer to goddamn replace him.”

 Kirk took a deep breath.

“Yeah,” he said, looking over at Sulu.  “We do.”

Sulu pointed at Kirk, not saying a word as the rest of the crew realized…Jim just became Captain.

“What?!”  Bones shouted at his friend, beyond pissed off now.

“Thanks for the support.”  Jim chirped rolling his eyes as he took his new chair, bypassing Uhura who asked low:

“I sure hope you know what you’re doing.”

Kirk breathes out.

“So do I.”

…

Spock stared out at the stars beyond the window.  A place where his mother _should have been_ , if she had arrived…but she didn’t.

Sarek entered behind him, spying the son who he hadn’t seen alone in years.  Not since Spock walked out of the Vulcan Science Academy had he been alone with this grown-child who was a strange combination of his Amanda and himself.  Who somehow managed to be Vulcan but so very human at the same time.

“You must not punish yourself.”  Sarek urged him.  Then waited a beat before prompting him.  “Speak your mind, Spock.”

“That.”  Spock closed his eyes.  “Would be unwise.”

“What is necessary is always wise.”  Sarek responded, watching his son struggle with all of the things he kept pent up inside and penned away.

“I feel as conflicted as I once was.”  Spock admitted.  “As I was as a child.  Have I made so little progress?”

Sarek watched the micro-expressions, facial shifts too swift for all but the most observant to spot, flit across Spock’s face, then answered softly.

“You will always be a child of two worlds.”  He took a breath.  “I am grateful for that.  And for you.”  He looked away shielding his pain.  “And not _only_ because you are all I have left of her.”

The son stared at the father, knowing that this is as close to emotion as Sarek will ever allow himself to tread.

“I feel anger.”  Spock raged inside.  “For the one who took her life.  An anger I cannot stop.”

“I believe…”  Sarek locked eyes with his son.  The son who had his lost wife’s eyes.  “That she would say…do not try to.”  He paused a moment.  “You asked me once.  Why I married your mother.”

Sarek watched the confusion play across his son’s face.  This wasn’t a moment to quibble or worry about the Vulcan way.  Not now.  And not to Spock.

“I married her because I loved her.”

Sarek shook his head ruefully.  “Perhaps I led you to believe that to embrace your Vulcan heritage would be to feel no emotion.  On the contrary, Vulcans feel emotions with a fierce depth humans cannot understand.  We strive to _master_ our emotions lest they lead us into madness.”  Sarek looked up.  “I see now that I have led you _wrongly_ in this.  Do not fall into pushing your emotions away, Spock.  They will only come back fiercer and more troubling than before.  You must allow yourself to _feel_.  And then _act_ with logic despite them.  That is the Vulcan way…if the Vulcan way is still what you aspire to.”

…

When Spock left the Bridge, Kirk turned on the comm on the chair and prepared to talk to the ship.

“Attention crew of the Enterprise, this is James Kirk.  Mister Spock has resigned commission and advanced me to Acting Captain.  I know you were all expecting to regroup with the fleet, but I’ve ordered a pursuit course of the enemy ship to Earth.  I want all departments at battle stations and ready in thirty minutes. Either we’re going down, or they are. Kirk out.”

…

“Now listen; we need to figure out a way to catch up and get to Nero's ship.”  Jim spoke glancing at the digital clock on the view-screen, unable to wait for Spock to recover and return to the bridge the way he knew his friend would in time.

“There's not a chance.”  Sulu spoke up making everyone look at him and Jim glanced at McCoy who stood just a few steps behind Jim, arms crossed over a broad chest and handsome face marred by a scowl. “They're going to be in geosynchronous orbit around Earth in ten minutes. We'll never make it.”

“Even if we could, you can't go in guns blazing.”  Leo agreed with Sulu making Jim bow his head thoughtfully, “not with their technology, that's suicide.”

“Then we find a way to get on that ship and steal the black hole device away from them.” Jim decided on the spot, wrecking his brain for a plausible idea.

“Well you can forget transwarp,” Scotty spoke up, drawing everyone’s attention to himself. “No way to predict the Narada's position from here.”

Jim sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. “Uhura,” he turned towards the female lieutenant and she straightened in her chair, “anything from Captain Pike?”

“No,” Uhura spoke weakly. “I've been monitoring all channels.” Heavy silence settled over the room as everyone fell into their own thoughts.

“Keptin Kirk?” Chekov spoke hesitatingly and slowly raised his hand. “Excuse me, plees, could I...?”

“Yes, Chekov, you don't need to ask permission to…” Jim started with an exasperated tone, but before he could finish the young Officer jumped to his feet and spoke hurriedly.

“Based on the Narada's course from Wulcan, I've projected that Nero will travel past Saturn. If we could drop out of warp behind one of Saturn's moons, say, Titan, the magnetic distortion from the planet's rings will make us invisible to Nero's sensors. We could follow him to Earth by staying in his blind spot,” Chekov took a deep breath after he blurted that out, looking at Jim with wide, doe eyes while everyone stared at the youngest among them completely taken aback.

“What blind spot?” was the first thing that passed Jim’s mouth after he managed to snap out of the shocked state.

“Its exhaust wake!” Chekov grinned brightly. “If we adjust our shield frequencies, they shouldn't detect us.”

“Wait a minute,” McCoy took a step forward, waving his right hand, “anyone understand this kid? How old are you?” he directed the question at Chekov who smiled brightly at him.

“I am seventeen, Sir,” Chekov stated almost proudly and Leo pursed his lips as he looked at Jim.

“Oh good, Jim, he’s seventeen,” he bit out as though he blamed Jim for it.

“Doctor, Mr. Chekov is correct.”  Everyone jumped in their places not having heard Spock enter, making them wonder how long he was there. “I have reviewed his telemetry,” Spock continued completely undisturbed. “If Mr. Sulu can maneuver us into position, I can beam aboard Nero's ship.” Spock once more calm, rejoining them from his quarters.

“I won't order you to do that, Mr. Spock,” Jim stated firmly, right eyebrow twitching when the corner of Spock’s lips twitched up a bit.

“Romulans and Vulcans share a common ancestry,” Spock answered, stating a point. “Our cultural similarities will make it easier for me to access their ship's computer to locate the device,” Spock glanced over his shoulder at Bones.  “Also, my mother is human,” Spock looked at Jim again, “which makes Earth the only home I have left.”

Jim took a moment to observe Spock, looking for something even though he didn’t really know what it was he was looking for. But there was something in Spock’s eyes which moved something in Jim, something he thought he would never see in the eyes of a Vulcan, and the Acting Captain’s mind was set.

“Then I'm coming with you,” Jim stated calmly, catching Leo’s wide-eyed look with the corner of his blue orbs.

“I would cite regulation, but I know you will simply ignore it,” Spock drawled in what Jim could swear was amusement, and he smirked at the Vulcan.

“See, we're getting to know each other…”

…

 “Ready,” Sulu spoke up and glanced at Chekov who nodded before quickly typing something into his panel.

“I've projected the parabolic course you must follow,” Chekov murmured just loud enough to be heard. “If you deviate by so much as a meter, we will be detected.”

Leo glanced at Sulu with a small frown, but it disappeared when he saw the young helmsman straighten in his chair, radiating certainty.

“Give me one quarter impulse burst for five seconds and I'll do the rest with thrusters,” Sulu spoke and Chekov nodded. “Commander, on your mark.”

Bones took a deep breath and nodded.

“Fire.”

…

“Transporter Room, we’re in stable geosynchronous orbit behind the Narada.”

Jim and Spock stood straighter when the voice came over the speakers.

“There’s no sign that they’ve detected us. Good luck, boys. Don’t get killed.”

“Don’t you just love it how they’re so confident in our abilities?” Jim drawled and Spock hummed, glancing at Jim to see him smirking.

“Ready when you are, lads!” Scotty called out.

“Whatever happens, if you feel you have a tactical advantage, fire on that ship. Even if we're still aboard. It's an order.”

“Just make sure you’re not on that ship and we’ve got ourselves a deal.”  Leo answered and Jim rolled his eyes.

“Need I remind you that I’m your Captain now?”

“Need I remind you that you’re guilty for every single shenanigan I’ve been dragged into for the last three years?”

“Energize,” he ordered before he could dig himself a deeper grave, and within moments they were gone.

…

“Transportation successful,” Scotty’s voice came over the speakers and Bones puffed out a breath in relief.

“Mr. Sulu, maintain optimal distance, shut down all thrusters.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Mr. Chekov, keep shields at minimal velocity, be prepared to put shields to maximum on my mark.”

“Aye, Commander.”

“Lieutenant Uhura, keep your ears open. I want to hear it if someone so much as sneezes on that ship.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m headed to sickbay, they’ll need me there for Pike, Mr. Sulu you have the bridge.”

Sulu nodded, and swallowed.

“And now we wait.”

…

Jim and Spock materialized in cargo bay, hands on their phasers just in case.

Good thing they were, though.

“INTRUDERS!!”

“FUCK!!” Jim had his phaser out in a second, but one of the Romulans had him disarmed and on the ground before Jim could blink. He immediately jumped to his feet, thinking of everything dust-ups and bar fights had taught him about hand to hand combat.

He managed to bring down the guy and spun around to see how Spock was fairing, only to freeze up and gape when he found the Vulcan standing among five Romulans, only one of them still breathing.

Spock raised an eyebrow at Jim when he saw the Acting Captain was out of breath and Jim opened his mouth to defend himself: “Mine had a gun.”

“I am trained in the Vulcan martial art of Suus Mahna,” Spock explained and Jim had a hard time stopping himself from sticking his tongue out at the Vulcan, six months of working together…you think you know a guy…

They glanced at the still breathing Romulan when he groaned and started to get up, and the two Star Fleet officers came to stand in front of him, Spock immediately going for the mind meld while Jim took a hold of one of the Romulan rifles, covering for Spock.

“I am unable to meld with these Romulans, there are subtle differences in their physiology I did not anticipate…”

“Then punch him in the face! Make him talk! Suus Mahna his ass!” Jim hissed incredulously.

“Suss Mahna is only intended for self-defense, he's no longer a threat…”

“Then pretend he's a threat, damnit!” Jim snapped in a hiss, adding to it when Spock seemed to hesitate, “I'm your captain, that's an order!”

Spock raised an eyebrow and looked down at the Romulan who tensed up, eyes widening when Spock’s eyes darkened and nose wrinkled in a sneer.

And then he smirked.

…

“TELL! - ME! - THE! - CODE!”

Each word was accented with a rather painful sounding punch, and everyone in the room turned towards the screen watching with wide eyes Spock’s form of “interrogation.”

“I didn’t know Spock had it in him,” Sulu commented almost dumbly, and in the next moment Bones laughed, hearing everything over the comms.

“Well, he is half human.”  He managed to snort sarcastically before bursting out into laughter again.

…

Jim stared at Spock with newfound respect while Spock’s fingers danced over the console, typing in the codes. A moment later two inter-cam windows opened one showing a white ship and the other showing Pike.

“The Red Matter Device is in the main hangar,” Spock muttered, eyes scanning the screen, picking through the data with practiced ease. “I’ve located Captain Pike as well.”

“Is he alive?” Jim moved closer to Spock, squinting at the screen showing Pike’s prone form.

“I am unable to confirm,” Spock answered and Jim clapped Spock’s shoulder.

“Let’s move.”

Spock took his phaser and the two moved for the containment hangar only to stop and grab onto the closest railing when the whole ship shook.

…

“They've activated the drill!” Chekov cried out when every screen in the room went dark.

 “Communications and transporter inoperative!” Uhura answered.

 “Bridge to Transportation! Scotty, do you copy?!”

“Aye, sir!”

“I want you ready to beam them over the moment the drill is down!”

“Aye, sir!”

…

“This technology is far beyond anything I have ever seen,” Spock murmured as he and Jim entered the white ship containing the Red Matter.

“PRINT AND FACE RECOGNITION ANALYSIS ENABLED,” the Computer spoke up and the two officers shared a glance. “WELCOME BACK, AMBASSADOR SPOCK.”

Spock raised an eyebrow while Jim squinted at him, lips parting in mock-confusion as he looked around.

“Is there something you’re not telling me, Mr. Spock?” Jim asked and Spock’s eyebrows rose higher on his forehead.

“There are a lot of things I am not telling you, Captain, if you would be more specific?”

“Computer: what is your manufacturing origin?” Jim spoke up.

“STARDATE 2397, COMMISSIONED BY THE VULCAN SCIENCE ACADEMY.” Jim’s eyes opened almost comically.

“I think this proves my theory.”  Spock frowned.  “Though I’m at a loss to explain my own involvement.”  Let alone as an Ambassador.

Jim grumbled, dodging the salvo with an order. “Get this ship off of the Narada. I’ll get Pike,” he marched out of the ship.

…

“Chekov! Status!”

“The drill is down!! All systems on!!”

“We need a picture Chekov!”  Sulu snapped, and within seconds they had a front-row view to a white ship of advanced design flying towards the Narada.

“Who’s flying that ship?”

“Commander Spock, sir!” Chekov said.

“The white ship has gone into warp, the Narada is following it!

 “Kirk to Enterprise! Do you copy?!”

“Kirk!”

“Port us out of here!”

“Scotty!! Bring them home!”

“Aye, Commander!”

“What is he doing?!” Uhura’s terrified exclamation had the entire bridge looking up at the screen, hearts stopping when they realized what Spock was doing.

“Scotty, now would be a good time!!” Sulu shouted.

“I’M WORKING ON IT!!”

Everyone held their breaths as they watched the white ship disappearing among the huge tentacles of the Narada, seconds away from impact.

“GOT THEM!!!”

Scotty’s exclamation was followed by a massive explosion which had everyone grabbing onto the closest surface to stop themselves from falling.

“Chekov! Maintain safe…” Sulu’s voice faded as they watched a black hole materialize down the middle of the Narada.

It was a sight that would forever haunt their dreams, frighteningly beautiful in its destructive power.

“Status?!” Jim snapped the moment he and Spock entered the bridge, shaking everyone out of their stupor and pushing them into work-mode.

“Keptin! The enemy ship is losing power! Its shields are down!”  Jim came to stand between Chekov and Sulu, facing the view-screen.

“Hail them, now!” Jim ordered.

They frowned at the screen when Nero’s rage-full face appeared in a window, eyes spitting hate and rage.

“This is Captain James T. Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise,” Jim spoke firmly, making the bridge crew and Spock glance at him. “Your ship is compromised - too close to the singularity to survive without assistance - which we are willing to provide…”

“Captain,” Spock attracted Jim’s attention and he turned away from the screen, “what are you doing?

“We show them compassion,” Jim murmured and Spock tilted his head to the side with a thoughtful squint. “It may be the only way to earn peace with Romulus. It's logic, Spock.”  Jim smirked.  “I thought you'd like that.”

“No, not really,” Spock answered, looking at Jim from under his eyebrows, the corners of his lips tilting up. “Not this time.”

“I would rather suffer the death of Romulus a thousand times,” the two turned around to look at the screen when Nero spoke up, “than accept assistance from you.”

“You got it,” Jim spoke up and walked over to the Captain’s chair, Spock following after him and taking his places on the side of Jim. “Lock phasers! Fire everything we've got!”

“Aye, Captain!”

“Kirk to Scotty,” Jim spoke into the com-link, “What’s your status?”

“I’ve taken the liberty to get to Engineering.  Hope that’s alrigh’.”

“Get us out of here,” he ordered.

“With pleasure!”

The familiar buzz of the ship shifting into warp had everyone breathing a sigh of relief.

Except it didn’t last for long.

It took less than a second to realize that something was very, very wrong.

“Why aren’t we at warp?!” Jim shouted, wincing when they heard the ship practically groaning under strain.

“We are!!” Chekov cried out.  “We’re caught in the grawity well!”

“Go to maximum warp!” Jim snapped. “Push it!”

“I'm giving her all she’s got, Captain!” Scotty’s voice came over the speaker.

“All she’s got isn’t good enough! What else d’you got?!” Jim cried out, eyes widening as he stared at the view-screen, the singularity getting closer and closer.

“I have no idea!  Well… Maybe.  If we eject the core and detonate, the blast could be strong enough…”

“Then do it, blow it!” Jim snapped.

The crew at the bridge held their breaths watching as the cores flew one after another towards the singularity.

“Let’s hope this works…”

…

“This assembly calls Captain James Tiberius Kirk.”

Complete silence reigned over the assembly of the whole body of the Star Fleet Academy, as Jim walked over to take his stand in front of the presiding Admiral.

The older man smirked at Jim who stood in front of him with hands clasped behind his back, feeling the eyes of his crew, his family on his back, especially two pairs of gleaming dark eyes, full of pride.

“Your inspirational valor and supreme dedication to your comrades are in keeping with the highest traditions of service and reflect utmost credit to yourself, your crew, and the Federation,” Admiral spoke threw gritted teeth as he took a medal from its case fastening it to Jim’s uniform as he spoke.

Jim barely stopped himself from smirking, only shifting his jaw and standing straighter as the Admiral shot him a pointed glance before taking a step back and speaking so that everyone could hear him.

“And now,” the Admiral offered Jim a smile, glancing over the young Captain’s shoulder at Pike who was sitting in a wheelchair, alive and recovering, “by Star Fleet Order 28455, you are hereby directed to report to Admiral Pike of the U.S.S. Enterprise, for duty as his relief.”

Jim turned on his heel and walked over to Pike, saluting him sharply, hardly able to conceal the smile stretching his lips. “I relieve you, Sir,” he said as he sharply ended his salute, and Pike bowed his head at Jim.

“I am relieved,” Pike answered and Jim nodded minutely, accepting Pike’s offered hand. “Congratulations, Captain.”

No longer able to suppress it, Jim grinned brightly and shook Pike’s hand. “Thank you, Sir.”

And as the thundering applause followed by cheers and whistling broke the silence of the assembly, Jim turned around, grinning harder than ever, his heart clenching at the sight of Leo standing first in line with Spock right beside him, the raven haired man’s eyes full of pride and joy.

…

“Father.”  Spock called after the pepper-haired Vulcan.

The man turned around and Spock’s eyes widened.

“I am not our father.  Though there are so few Vulcans left, we cannot afford to ignore each other.”

Spock Prime… his future self.

“Then why did you send Kirk aboard, when you alone could have explained the truth?”

“Because, you needed each other: opposing yet complimentary opposites.  It was that balance between us —I should say you and Kirk— that often made the impossible, possible.  My actions have already robbed you of much, by merely creating this new future.  I could not deprive you of the revelation of all that you could accomplish together.  Of a friendship, that would define you both, and the rest of the crew, in ways you cannot yet realize.”

“You lied to Kirk.”

“Oh, I... I implied.”

“A gamble.”

“An act of faith. One I hope that you will repeat in the future at Starfleet.”

Spock hesitated.

“In the face of extinction, it is only logical I resign my Starfleet commission and help rebuild our race. “

“And yet, you can be in two places at once. I urge you to remain in Starfleet. I have already located a suitable planet on which to establish a Vulcan colony, that I remember being inhabitable from my own days upon the _Enterprise_. Spock, in this case, do yourself a favor. Put aside logic. Do what feels right.  You may learn to enjoy the prospect.” Spock Prime ignored the look of doubt shot him by well…him. “Since my customary farewell would appear oddly self-serving, I shall simply say good luck.”

Spock Prime gave him the Vulcan salute and Spock returned it.

…

“Maneuvering thrusters and impulse engines at your command, Sir.”

“Weapons systems and shields on standby.”

“Dock control reports ready. Yard Command signaling clear.”

Sulu, Chekov and Uhura turned in their chairs one by one as they spoke their reports, looking at their Captain as he took a seat in his chair, lips tilted up into a smile and blue eyes taking in his crew before he opened the com-line.

“Scotty, how are we?”

“Dilithium chamber at maximum efficiency,” The man’s voice came over the line, adding almost slyly: “Captain.  Finished transporting supplies, Captain, everything’s ready.”

“Same ship, different day,” Jim looked over his right shoulder at Leo who stood to his right, arms crossed over his chest and smirking down at Jim. His smirk faded when Jim turned to the left looking at an empty post before sighing and facing the front.

“Mr. Sulu, prepare to engage thrus…”

“Permission to come aboard, Captain.” Everyone turned towards the turbolift and Jim stood up when he saw Spock standing there.

“Permission granted,” Jim said and Spock walked over to Jim to stand right in front of him.

“As you have yet to select a first officer, respectfully, I would like to submit my candidacy. Should you desire, I can provide character references.”

Jim chuckled and glanced at Leo. “Bones, we will have to talk about you keeping things from your Captain.”

“I don’t think we will,” Leo’s voice was placid, “not if you don’t want the whole crew to know about that one time when you mixed Romulan Ale and Scotch and got involved with the…”

“It would be my honor, Commander,” Jim interrupted Bones hurriedly, looking at Spock who nodded, smirking at Jim before he went to take his position while Jim let go of a breath of relief and took a seat in his chair. “Maneuvering thrusters, Mr. Sulu,” he ordered, ignoring the curious and amused glances thrown his way, “take us out.”

“Aye, Captain.”

…

On a planet a hundred light years away, a massive sentience felt the coming change and _pulsed_ with anticipation _._   Her new life would be complete…soon.

…

_Note_ : _That’s a wrap on the events of Star Trek: 2009.  The next chapter will pick back up with Hadrian and we will see the first contact between Camelot and the Federation._


	8. Seven: First Contact

** Harder Choices **

_Note: This chapter takes place between the events of Star Trek:2009 and Star Trek: Into Darkness._

**Chapter Seven: First Contact**

_West Wing, Morgana Magnus, Elysian Foothills, Camelot, 2260_

Hadrian was woken from a rare sound sleep by the internal alarm of one of his alert wards being tripped.  Sitting up in his bed in the King’s quarters of Morgana Magnus, he rubbed his eyes.  He was in the midst of his yearly “progress” through his holdings and the slowly expanding territories of Camelot as he people reproduced, explored, and spread out over the main continent of the planet.

Camelot, he’d discovered in the wake of being “perfected” through contact with what he and his uncles had named a “Psi-Fountain” due to its many uses not limited to communing with the planet’s sentience Herself, was larger than they had first anticipated, containing several other smaller landmasses in the midst of the vast oceans.  One of them was mostly desert and tundra with a single rainforest that contained another singularity point.  Moreover, Hadrian had found that by combining the energies of the Fountain with apparition he could travel to any of the singularity points all over the planet.

Which led to a moment of deep irony when he mapped all _seven_ of them.

Only Hadrian’s most trusted advisors had been told of the Fountains in addition to Remy and Siri who had found them with him and all were under Oaths to never reveal them.

He had subsequently placed alert wards surrounding each of them to notify him if anyone _did_ discover them by accident.  An unlikely occurrence but it was still _possible_.

This was the tenth year of their colonization and he was attending celebrations in each of his holdings and the newer settlements such as the Dragonhold.

Hadrian rubbed one hand over the ache in his heart absently, now quite familiar with the ghosting pain that had become part of his life along with his bloodline curse.  It bothered him less now that he’d been perfected but it was still there, much like how the nagging wounds his Ritual had left on his mind and spirit had been somewhat soothed by watching his people expand and explore their new home, becoming happy and prosperous once more after months and years and _decades_ of strife.

While he’d been thinking he was also rising and shedding his sleep clothes – having been alone for once in his bed – using an absent flex of power to _Scourgify_ himself and another to clean and tidy his hair as he slipped into the soft cotton underclothes that cushioned his gold-dusted skin from the rub of his basilisk hide Scout’s class armor.

Another change their new world had created.

Many of the Tovenaar clung to their robes and wizarding wear but the scouts and hunting parties and explorers had needed something else, necessitating several classes of armor not unlike the dueling and battle robes Hadrian had preferred upon Claiming Avalon and being flung into a war.

Tight basilisk hide trousers clung to his legs – protecting him from the savage scouring wind and sand of the Mars Fields and the bites of the insects and reptiles that lived there – with pockets that laid flat from judicious use of enlargement and featherlight charms.  Hadrian tucked the light cotton undertunic into the top of the pants before cinching the laces of both the neck of the tunic and his tie-fly trousers tight.  Over top the undertunic went an armored basilisk hide vest that protected his vital organs and cinched fast against his ribs without constricting movement of his arms.  On his bared arms went his enchanted mithril bands that wrapped around his biceps that monitored his vitals and would portkey him directly away from a fight and into Andromeda’s care if they dipped too low.  Matching mithril and basilisk hide bracers strapped to his lower arms, and over top of it all went a lightweight leather duster with a hood that would protect him from the harsh light of the two sister suns.  It had warming and cooling charms sewn into it along with many hidden pockets with useful things like emergency rations and supplies.

Satisfied he slung Ancuru in its sheath across his back and picked up the enchanted pouch that held the longbow he’d taken to using when he went outside the wards of Avalon.

They couldn’t ward the entire planet – not yet anyway – it simply wasn’t feasible.  But with the knowledge that space travel was likely rampant from Hadrian’s first spell he’d cast after the Ritual to discover their location, neither he nor the Council were taking any chances and had warded Avalon and all of their holdings and settled areas to the gills.

Though he was working on a warding schematic with help from Remus and Bill, Lord Weasley that would harness the power of the singularities to ward Camelot and if possible using the twin suns the system that Hadrian had claimed as the territory of Avalon.

“And where are _you_ headed alone?”  McG’s gruff voice called out as Hadrian entered M.M.’s main hall.  “Without one of your _loyal guard_?”

Hadrian winced at the biting tone of his Captain of the guard.  McG and the rest had spent less and less time actually _doing their jobs_ since they’d come to Camelot.  With Hadrian being so busy with the exploration teams and getting Avalon up and running again, there just weren’t many times he left Skye Palace.  And when he did leave it was on his own personal missions and generally with Remus and Sirius as company.

McG was _not_ best pleased with his increasingly-lax views on his Grace’s personal security.  And he let Hadrian know it.  Loudly.  And at length.

“It’s just a quick Scout around, McG.”  Hadrian smiled winsomely had his minder.  “I don’t really think…”

“No.”  McG bit out.  “You don’t.”  The rough-and-tumble Scots HitWizard-cum-Captain stared his liege down.  “Voldemort may be gone, laddie.  But he wasna the only threat to your wee neck.  No’ then and no’ now.  So you’d best be startin’ to take along your guards when you’re runnin’ ou’ an’ abou’….am I clear, _your Grace_?”

_His Grace_ cleared his throat awkwardly, looking around.  “Well.”  He drawled.  “Since I don’t _see_ any of my guards…”

“Hadrian…”

“I’ll just be going then, bye!”  Words spewing in a heated rush, Hadrian felt for the wards and Apparated away to the cavern in the Mars Fields that had been the home of the alert sounding.

He was _so_ going to pay for that when McG got a hold of him next.  But…hell.  He _is_ twenty-eight if he doesn’t look it.  And there wasn’t a danger native to Camelot that he wasn’t prepared for.

That, of course, left plenty of room for _non-native_ dangers but…what McG didn’t know wouldn’t tan Hadrian’s ass.

…

_Command Bridge, USS Valiant, Empire of Avalon Airspace; Earlier that day_

Newly-confirmed or rather _reconfirmed_ Ambassador Spock Prime che’Sarek or Ambassador Selek as he was now known, spoke confidently to his counterpart’s father, Ambassador Sarek on the view screen of the bridge.  Captain Marsden was being most accommodating of his need to keep in close contact with the other exploratory missions that were attempting to locate the best planet to colonize for New Vulcan.  He, himself was leading one of those missions, due to scout and explore the massive Class M planet he had remembered from his own timeline was being uninhabited.  The other mission leaders included Ambassador Sarek and several other Vulcans who were more…public-friendly.

“All readings indicate that this planet is the most-similar to our lost home world.”  Sarek was reporting to the multi-way meeting with the other ships StarFleet had offered the Vulcans for use in their endeavor to find a new home.

The current population of Vulcans were relegated to either being refugees on other Federation planets or Vulcan colonies spread out across the galaxy.  It wasn’t a comfortable state of affairs for anyone, especially the elders who were staying on Earth at the Federation headquarters while Sarek and Selek headed the exploration to find New Vulcan.  Part of Selek’s sense of humor, developed from years around his timeline’s James Tiberius Kirk, thought rather irreverently that StarFleet was being so accommodating in order to get the Vulcan elders out of the Federation’s and thereby StarFleet’s hair.

“The others have all proven marginally suitable.”  A Vulcan with darker-than-normal skin reported.  “It is the wish of the Elders that Ambassadors Selek and Sarek send teams down to their assigned planets and gain more data and first-hand accounts before a decision is made.”

“I have a team prepared and ready to leave within an hour.”  Sarek said with a nod.  “Selek?”

“My team is ready to go.”  Spock Prime, no.  _Selek_ , responded.  “I shall accompany them to the surface myself, as the readings we have gathered have proven insufficient to make an informed analysis.”

“Very good.”  The Elder on the call nodded sharply.  “Then this meeting is adjourned until reports arrive from the scouting parties.”  He held up his hand in salute, the others following his lead.

Selek lowered his hand and turned towards the present Captain.

“I would be more comfortable with you beaming down, Ambassador Selek.”  Marsden said in his richly-accented New England voice.  “If you would consent to having a security team accompany yourself and your Vulcan team of scouts.  They’re scientists.”  Marsden shook his head.  “Not cowboys like the _Enterprise_ crew.”

“Maybe so, Captain.’  Selek nodded, acknowledging the advice with his typical calm face and voice.  “However in this case scientists are what are required and a smaller party is better – to start.”  He held up on hand when the Captain went to object.  “I assure you, Captain.”  There was _almost_ a hint of humor in his voice.  “That even Vulcan scientists have been trained in self-defense.  If necessary, we will be only a beam away.”

“I see there’s no reasoning with you.”  Marsden shook his head.  He didn’t know why he even tried.  “At _least_ take jumpsuits so we can monitor your vitals upon arrival.  We’ve been getting very strange readings from our scans ever since we entered this system.”

“That.”  Selek nodded before taking his leave to prepare for the trip to the mysterious surface.  “We can do.”

…

Selek called a halt to the procession as they came in sight of the cavern opening they had found on one of the more reliable scans – reliable as it was from more than a decade before.

For some reason in the time that has passed since this system and planet were originally charted a heavy layer of interference in their scans has appeared over parts of the planet.  There were still entire continents that were easily scanned and charted but _this_ continent with the large desert area and caverns that would suit the Vulcan way of life quite well was almost entirely covered by the strange interference.  Most of the interference in the desert region _seemed_ to surround this particular access point to the underground cavern networks.

Pausing outside of the entrance to the cavern he ordered one of the younger Vulcan scientists to set up the anchor transponder that their personal locater units were then synced to – rather like using the high-tech equivalent of a large ball of twine to find their way out, he thought to himself amused.

A good thing as it turned out when a hundred-meters into the cavern itself they came to a series of branches.  They didn’t have enough of members of this scouting expedition to even explore them all if they split up into one-Vulcan units – which was exactly what he ordered.

“We will attack this logically.”  He stated, motioning to the far-left-hand tunnel.  “Sqvuk in the far left, then T’hun, Rewbek, Sixuk, and lastly myself.  Once all have returned from their tunnel _intact and without injury_ , we will start again in that order until all of the tunnels have been charted.  If more than six hours pass, mark your place on your map and have the _Valiant_ beam you back to the transponder site.  If you come to a crossroad, always take the farthest-left tunnel.”

“Yes, Ambassador.”  The scientists answered promptly.  It was as he said, a logical plan.  But with several Vulcans working in the same area it was rational to have clear orders of operations.

Selek nodded, checking his rations and water as well as his thermal blanket were safe inside their carry bag with his other emergency supplies.  He was well-aware from his many adventures in the other timeline that _anything_ could go wrong at any time and didn’t want to suffer severe injury or even death from being careless.

The others followed his example before they all split off, exploring their tunnels, Selek entering the fifth from the left-hand side.

...

“Research Log: Star Date 28.08.2259 0713 hours.”  Selek looked down at his tricorder for the current time on this planet.  “I have entered and am exploring the caverns in the desert of the possible New Vulcan.  Together with the other scientific-scouts we have each selected a tunnel in the caverns to explore after being confronted with a massive branching area approximately one-hundred meters from the entrance we utilized to breach the surface of the planet.  Walking at a steady pace I have traversed an additional approximate seven kilometers from the central cavern.”

Selek gave an internal sigh, looking around the smooth walls and floor of the cavern tunnel.

“The farther I progress through this tunnel the more signs of intelligent life I see.  These tunnels, while clearly natural, have been augmented by some form of technology to smooth the walls and create a gradual incline.  I approximate for the seven kilometers I have explored into the tunnel, I have been led steadily downward at a ten-percent grade in places, lowering me to almost a kilometer under the surface from where I began.  Moreover: there is very little in the way of dust, soil, or animal markings to be found, though I did hear running water at one point, leading me to postulate that there is an underground water source available both within the caverns themselves as well as the planet.”

He took out one of his ration packs and settled down to have a small snack and some water, knowing that with his age, he couldn’t afford to push himself the way he used to especially with the steep incline in places.

…

“Research Log: Star Date 28.08.2259 0930 hours.”  Selek leaned against a smoothed boulder, running one wrinkled hand over the edges and the strange runic writing he’d found carved into the top of it.  “The farther into the tunnels I travel, the more certain I am of there being some form of intelligent life already inhabiting this planet.”  He sighed, closing his eyes.  “This is unfortunate as this is one of only two possibilities left for New Vulcan.  I theorize that the interference the _Valiant_ ’s equipment has encountered may be linked to the same people that smoothed the tunnels and created the runic markings I have found.  While I admit my disappointment with a possible loss of a new home, I _do_ find myself excited to have found another possible form of intelligent life.”

He rocked back onto his feet, continuing to speak into the tricorder.

“It has been many years since I have made First Contact with a people.  I am invigorated by the prospect.”

…

Selek crept closer to the large opening at the tunnel’s end, puzzled by the readings he was getting from his tricorder.

He had noted in his research log that there was a steadily increasing amount of interference with his equipment the farther down this particular branch of a tunnel he went.  After walking for hours at a steady clip, he knew that he was far from where he’d begun his journey into the cavern complex, farther than he would have thought possible if it were not for the smoothness of the passageway.  Whoever or whatever had found this place before him had done excellent work improving the natural formation, even to the point of widening places where the tunnel pinched close or adding stairs.

There was no longer any question: this planet if not already settled had likely been claimed by another race.

However, as he’d found no notation of it in the computer banks nor had any other member of the exploratory team dedicated to the founding of New Vulcan, that led him to the theory that it hadn’t been by a race that was a member of the Federation nor even one of their known allies or enemies for that matter.

Making his earlier supposition likely correct: this could very well end as a First-Contact mission.

For the last five or six kilometers the interference had increased exponentially, now that he was close to the cavern’s terminus based on the earlier scans of the planet pre-interference he’d located on his tricorder, the readings were complete gibberish – if he successfully took any _at all_.

With an internal sigh, he clicked off the tricorder, aware that he was likely to be over the deadline for being beamed back to the base transponder due to that same interference requiring him to backtrack before beaming.

Though since he was _already_ going to be late…there was no harm in exploring the terminus cavern.

Curiosity at the forefront of his mind, Selek stepped around the last rock formation that blocked the cavern’s entrance, lightly tracing the runic symbols it had been marked with.

He came to an abrupt halt, eyes widening at the sight the monolith had concealed, one thought echoing in his mind.

“ _Pink light?!”_

…

Hadrian Apparated into the singularity antechamber in one hells of a hacked-off mood.  Thanks to McG’s meddling he’d lost precious _time_ in investigating whatever had tripped his wards on the antechamber and now he had to run through the tunnels at breakneck speed as he _felt_ the ward upon the singularity entrance trip.  It was seeming less-and-less to him like a creature of some sort and more and more like _intelligent_ life that had caused his earlier-than-planned outing.

A creature would have _felt_ the warnings in the wards and been susceptible to the repellent charms woven into them.  Whatever or whoever had found the singularity chamber had an impressive mind to resist the compulsions he’d set in place.  He could only think of _maybe_ a dozen of his own people who could’ve managed such a feat.

Cursing under his breath the whole way, Hadrian raced through the winding tunnels, sending every foul-word he could think of at the energy output of the singularity that prevented him from just popping into the singularity chamber itself.

Magic became somewhat _unreliable_ the nearer the Fountain one came, the main reason why it had remained unfound by his Scouts until he himself had led Siri and Remy to it.  The three of them and a handful of others were the only ones with the Occlumency barriers necessary to both feel the Fountain itself outside of the energy mass that warns others away.

Running at a fast but steady lope, Hadrian’s long, strongly muscled legs ate up the distance between the antechamber and the singularity chamber at a healthy clip.

His cursing gained heat at he entered the singularity chamber, his legs now pumping as he poured on the speed.

The – person – had been enchanted by the singularity.

He was too late.

Whoever this was, they were already in the midst of being “perfected” by the planet’s energies, years and years of age sloughing off as Hadrian took the tableau in in a fraction of a second, making a decision just as fast.

The being was male – that much he could tell for sure, his clothing having been destroyed by contact with the singularity.  Hadrian gave a mental smirk.  Cami didn’t care for synthetic _anything_.  Thankfully for the male, he’d had enough presence of mind even within the singularity’s thrall to shuck his pack and electronics before _investigating_ the blooming well of powerful energy.

It was also readily apparent that whatever species the male belonged to it was distinctly _alien_ with those pointed ears and arching brows but just as distinctly _humanoid_ in nature.

Another cousin species, of all things.

Hadrian saw and noted all of this in the seconds it took him to fall into an all-out sprint, knowing only one way to remove the male from the singularity – brute force.

Shucking his magical items – including Ancuru – as he went, having zero desire to once again experience another magical coma thanks to the backlash of the two types of energy interacting, the trained warrior and Scout lowered his shoulder, canting his head to the side, and bulled into the singularity and back out with the male trapped in his arms in a spectacular tackle that used the force of his momentum – no small thing with his combined strength and speed especially after being perfected himself – to catapult them from Cami’s grasping glowing feelers that made up the singularity.

The Fountain was many things and had many uses.  But chief among them was as a conduit to the planet’s strange and massive sentience.

Hadrian only had a moment to be thankful that his knee-jerk reaction actually worked between the time he slammed into the male and forced him from the singularity and hitting the smooth cavern floor.

Then everything went black.

…

Holding in the fervent desire to simultaneously vomit his guts out and curl into the fetal position cradling his _pounding_ head, Hadrian’s lashes fluttered over dazed green eyes as he wound his way back out of the massive information dump he’d just experienced.

_Thank Merlin for Occlumency_.  He thought to himself – when he was once again _capable_ of thought after having what felt like an eternity of years of life slammed as forcefully into his brain as he’d slammed the male out of the singularity and onto the cavern floor.

Most of what he’d seen as he’d processed and stored the foreign memories faster than any computer – well…any computer from his original time anyway – hadn’t made sense.

Understandable, as a large part of the _value_ of Legilimency came from being able to experience the context of the thoughts and memories you were searching for.

The consciousness he’d been…well… _raped_ by – however unwittingly – wasn’t like anything he’d encountered before.

Not even the minds of Severus or Merlin-forbid _Tom_ were on the same level of logical reasoning and compartmentalizing as this mind.

From what he could tell, emotions were processed in an entirely different subset of the mind than rational though…it was like there was a complete disconnect between the two...a disconnect that was utterly _alien_ to the way human and Tovenaar minds worked.

Even Sherlock and Mycroft weren’t capable of that type of separation.

_“Fascinating.”_ He murmured to himself before rolling his eyes at the usage of one of the male’s trademark phrases.

Not all of the memories were in a language he understood – in fact most of them weren’t despite him gaining _some_ knowledge of languages from the info-dump – but others clearly showed that there was some bastardized form of English in use in the modern world that was called “Federation Standard.”

It made him feel a bit like when he was reading Shakespeare.

Many of the words and phrases were the same but then there were others that made no sense at _all_.

Or even worse…it was like when John tried to force him into learning Olde English in addition to all the _other_ language lessons he had undergone.

Those language lessons definitely stood him in good measure now, with having several new ones forced upon him.

A couple of other – not quite _thoughts_ more like ideas – came through clearly besides the _fascinating_ brain structure that was reflected in the conscious mind and some knowledge of Federation Standard.

One was that the reason the naked male was still knocked for six while Hadrian was up and functioning – and casting utilizing the energy of the singularity to make the male’s team believe that he actually had met their rendezvous and they were to continue on with their research _without_ him – was that the race of beings he belonged to in part were called _Vulcans_ and more importantly were _touch-telepaths_.

Touch-telepaths that did either had no idea or no interest in utilizing mental shielding.

Which meant that when Hadrian had linebackered the Vulcan out of the singularity, his touch-telepathy had kicked in: implanting information in Hadrian’s brain but _also_ running head-long into Hadrian’s shields instead of creating the feedback loop or _mind-meld_ his touch-telepathy was used for.

Yeah…he was going to be out for a while after receiving the telepathic equivalent of blunt-force trauma.

With Hadrian himself having trained both his Occlumency and Legilimency all he got was a couple minutes of a blackout followed by feeling hungover.

Spock Prime or _Selek_ as he’d started to be called in his more recent memories didn’t have that advantage and was going to be unconscious for hours between Cami being up to her old tricks and the telepathic concussion.

Which led him to the other thing that he’d picked up loud and clear from the screaming morass of Selek’s mental imprint.

Hadrian wasn’t the _only_ time-traveler in the cavern.

He smirked picking up the slighter form of the Vulcan and moving him into a more comfortable place to lay down after dressing him.

They had _a lot_ to talk about…

If, that is, Selek ever woke up.

Hadrian’s smirk turned into full-on belly laughter as he assimilated another of the Vulcan’s memories.

A physical and _mental_ body-slam certainly made for one _hells_ of a First Contact.


	9. Chapter 8 - United Federation of Planets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the last set-up chapter before things start to heat up.

** Harder Choices **

_Note: This chapter takes place between Star Trek: 2009 and Star Trek: Into Darkness._

**Chapter Eight: The United Federation of Planets**

Selek’s soft brown eyes snapped wide, the half-Vulcan ambassador quickly cataloging both his physical state and his surroundings as awareness rushed back into his complex mind.  A catalogue that led to more questions than answers.  First among them being: why wasn’t he in pain?

Granted: being half-Vulcan he had aged better than any fully-human male he’d known, including his own dear friend James T. Kirk.  However, that didn’t preclude him from the common afflictions of advanced age, chief among them the aching bones and joints of the elderly.  As he’d grown older and somewhat weaker he had also grown used to the aches and pains of his aging body.

Aches and pains that were shockingly absent upon his waking rather than being the cause of his waking like a pair of annoyingly-persistent Tribbles.

A state of being made even more shocking by the last thing he remembered before being rendered unconscious: being bodily forced from the strange pinkish energy that he’d discovered and slammed into the cavern floor.

At his age and fragility…he should have at the least strained muscles and bruises if not broken bones to go along with them.

On the heels of that puzzling discovery came another:

He had no idea where he was.

The surroundings he’d woken in looked nothing like anywhere he’d been recently.  Not the cavern or surrounding tunnel corridors, not the desert sands and dunes of the planet surface, and definitely not the sleek metal lines of the _USS Valiant_.

Instead he was hemmed in on all sides by draping yards of what appeared to be some form of silken fabric, his body reclined upon a plush mattress covered in a bedspread and sheets in a similar material.  The bed itself was a strange design that he’d only seen in history vids called a “four-poster” in what appeared to be – but couldn’t be – actual wood rather than a synthetic.  On one side of the bed, the draperies were tied back, allowing him to see beyond the confines of the bed and into the surrounding room – a room fashioned of pure stone in a gleaming marble that couldn’t _actually_ be veined in precious stones…could it?

A small nightstand was placed beside the bed, just visible around the edge of the drapery, likewise fashioned in an ancient style and out of materials he wasn’t familiar with.  Resting upon it was a crystal ­– _crystal_ – decanter with what looked like and smelled to his Vulcan senses to be clean, clear water.  Beads of condensation upon the vessel spoke to its soothing chill, his own parched throat insisting upon him sitting up and partaking of the offering.

Peeling back the soft, smooth bed coverings, Selek swung his legs around, side-tracked momentarily at the realization that not only was he in a strange – _very strange_ – place but that he was likewise dressed in strange clothing – in this case a set of soft _synthetic? cotton?_ pajamas.

It wasn’t until he’d sat up fully and helped himself to a glass of the delicious hydration left for him that Selek made his most shocking discovery yet: there were no age spots or large joints protruding on his hands.  Nor on his feet.  His skin was as smooth and unblemished – that he could see – as it had been in his youth.

 _What has been_ done _to him_?

…

“He’s been perfected.”  Hadrian reported to his closest and most trusted advisors.  “Not unlike what the singularity did to myself and my Lords Justice and High Chancellor.  Sirius’s mind is clearer than it’s ever been, capable of more logical thought but also having a better control over his more _animalistic_ urges.  Remus no longer fights the wolf for control or suffers from his transformation, the dichotomous pieces of himself at ease.  In this _Ambassador Selek’s_ case, the singularity deaged him: returning him to the most powerful point of his physical youth.”

“What of his companions, your Grace?”  Mycroft leaned forward, a light of renewed purpose in his eyes.  The Lord High Ambassador once more had a challenge in his life beyond being an advisor to his foster-brother or husband and father to Anthea and their two daughters and sole son.  “The other _Vulcans_ ,” the word tasted strange in his mouth.  “And the starship?”

“His troop that he’d led to the surface have returned to their ship under the impression that the Ambassador has made contact with the indigenous people here,” not entirely untrue, Hadrian thought with a mental chuckle.  “And has remained behind to parlay with them.  It buys us some time to speak to him and figure out a plan.”

“Some time.”  Remus nodded slightly in agreement.  “But not forever.  They will need to see him and speak to him eventually.  What happens then with such a well-known – as your information suggests – figure in this future suddenly appears to have been reverted in age?”

“That depends on him.”  Mycroft answered for Hadrian, one hand rubbing at his jawline.  “If necessary I’m sure Severus or Hadrian himself could implant a story in his mind – if he doesn’t want to play nice.”

“And if he does?”  Sirius asked with an arch of a brow.  He wasn’t happy in the least with the easy suggestion of mind-tampering.  Especially upon an alien – for all intents and purposes – species that might not react _well_ to such an event.

That was the sort of shit he’d hoped they’d left behind with their old world and the mundane’s genetic manipulations.

“Then we’ll have gained a valuable ally.”  Hadrian said, eyes bright with new life.  “From what I was able to decipher, he’s well-regarded by this _United Federation of Planets_ that is much like the E.U. of our old home – simply on a galactic scale.  If they’re willing to play ball with Us, we’ll have gained excellent protection against some of the more _aggressive_ of the species in our new reality.”  Hadrian sat forward in his eagerness to explore beyond the reaches of Camelot.  “It’s not only a whole new world, gentlemen…”  He grinned, emerald eyes gleaming.  “It’s a whole new _galaxy_.”

“Alright, Harry.”  Remus sat forward the others mirror him, hands clasped on the table in front of the High Chancellor.  “How do you want to handle this?”

“Well…”  Hadrian gave a devil’s grin then began to explain his plan for introducing the half-Vulcan ambassador to his newly-regained youth and Camelot at large.  “Here’s my thought…”

…

Before Selek could obsess too much over the changes he’d seen with his own eyes in his extremities and then in the mirror – and actual silvered glass _mirror_ for the love of logic – in his face and body, the exquisitely carved wooden – _wooden_ – door opened, revealing a vaguely-familiar figure.

“You’re awake,” the voice was a deep and pleasing male baritone to match the fluidly-masculine build.  “Excellent.”

Selek placed the figure as it – _he_ \- came into the light of the room from the dimmer corridor.  It was the same that he’d gotten a glimpse of before being rendered unconscious in the cavern.

“I’m sure this must all be overwhelming.”  The male of apparent humanoid species continued as he came farther into the room, setting down a filled tray on the small table in the window alcove.  “I’ll start easy: my name is Rian and I’m the Fountain Guardian and Scout that pushed you out of the Fountain’s grasp.  You were knocked unconscious by the blunt-but-effective method I used and I subsequently brought you to the Capitol of the Avalonian Empire, Avalon City.  We’re in the guest wing of Skye Palace currently.  The planet you were exploring is called Camelot and is part of the claimed territories of the Empire of Avalon.”

As the male – Rian – spoke he was also removing covers to various dishes and setting out a place setting of plate, bowl, glass, and silverware for Selek’s use before waving the closely-observing half-Vulcan into the chair and serving him once he’d followed the wordless instruction.

“Your men believe that you’ve made First Contact with the indigenous species of the planet and have been invited to parlay.  No mention of your…accident…nor the subsequent changes you’ve undergone have been relayed to them.  I know from our – _unfortunate_ – exposure to each other stemming from my freeing you from the Fountain that your people the _Vulcans_ are vegetarians.  This is a tangy soup made from vegetable broth with mushrooms and scallion, served with a spicy vegetable stir-fry in coconut milk sauce.”  Rian motioned for him to begin eating as he sat opposite him.  “Please, enjoy.”

“Thank you.”  Selek responded stoically before tasting the broth and _stir-fry_ , finding himself unusually pleased by the piquant and tangy flavors.  “It is quite good.”  He admitted, face blank.  “I am afraid I have questions.”

“I expected nothing less from you, Ambassador Spock.”  Rian answered, arching a brow.  “Or do you prefer Selek now?  Your memories were a bit muddled due to my not understanding some of the languages used throughout your _distinctive_ history.”

“You may call me Selek or Ambassador Selek, whichever you prefer,” Selek frowned lightly as he spoke between mouthfuls of the flavorful offerings his contact, Rian, had provided.  The humanoid’s accent in Federation Standard was a bit odd, with a word or two that he was unfamiliar with, but he found himself deciphering his speech with little trouble.  “First: you mentioned experiencing my memories from the mind-meld but I seem to have gained none of your own.  How is such a thing possible?”

“While my people, the _Tovenaar_ , do not have touch-telepaths like the Vulcans, we do have a similar discipline.”  Rian gave a small smile as the half-Vulcan split his attention between Rian himself, his food, and his surroundings, no doubt analyzing every little thing or storing it for analyzing later based on Rian’s experience with his unique mind.  “That allows one to experience another’s thoughts and memories.  We also have a complementary discipline that does the opposite: shielding one’s mind from external intrusion.  I happen to be a master of both as a result of my education.”

“Therefore.”  Selek made the logical conclusion.  “You were exposed to my memories via the mind meld while simultaneously preventing myself from copying your own.  A most fascinating skill.”  He commented studying the humanoid across from him.  “Is it common among your people, the _Tovenaar_?”

“Yes.”  Rian answered him simply, albeit leaving out that before coming to Camelot Occlumency and Legilimency were nearly lost arts save for a few with the disposition to learn it and carry it on.  Or among the high nobility where it was part of their required education, as with Hadrian’s own preceding his Kingship.  “It is.  Though not many of us would have been able to remove you from the singularity without damage to themselves.  As it is, your new appearance and age are going to be hard to explain away without having legions tromping through our lands looking for the Fountain of Youth or whatever they choose to call it.”

“A scientific explanation will be believable enough, and I am more than capable of coming up with one.  Exposure to a unique form of radiation that caused my electronics to malfunction would work well.”  Selek postulated, setting down his provided utensils – in silver _real silver_ – on the plate before recovering the remains of his meal.  Not that there was much left.  He’d quickly found as he – as Jim would say – _dug in_ to the food that his youthful appetite had returned alongside his younger body.

A most curious thing now that he’d had some time to come to grips with it, his guard’s, savior’s, guide’s?  No-nonsense manner helping him along.  After all, after a lifetime of friendship with Jim T. Kirk, this isn’t even in the top five of strange happenings to occur to or around him.

“As you wish, Ambassador.”  Rian nodded genially.  “Our medical personnel would like you to remain here for observation while you recover from your experience with the Fountain.  As I was the one to find you,” he gave a crooked grin at the half-Vulcan.  “I’ve been assigned as part-guard and part-host while you’re here, though only nominally since as an officially recognized and sanctioned Ambassador of your people, you technically fall under the purview of the Lord High Ambassador, as well as the Privy Council and King and Emperor of Avalon.”

Selek processed that before fact-checking.  “Yours is a feudal system?”

“Not in the way you likely mean it.”  Rian shook his head, motioning for the other man to stand and join him at the window, which Rian deftly uncovered from the shades blocking the red sun which was at its zenith, marking it as approximately midnight on Camelot.  “You are currently located in the guest suite afforded to a high-ranking Ambassador.  This building is known as Skye Palace, the home of the King and Emperor of Avalon, His Grace King _Hadrian Emrys-Pendragon_.”

Brown eyes wide, Selek took in the sight of the floating city below him, populated with over a dozen floating islands, and one that appeared to be a city-center, plus the landscape far below them as his guard/host continued to speak.

“The city is named Avalon City or Avalon Proper depending on who you speak to.  It is one of over a dozen cities populating this continent…though as it’s technically hovering over a mile above the surface that’s a bit of a stretch.”

“And,” Selek cocked his head to one side as he studied the movement of the floating islands.  “Correct me if I’m wrong…but are we moving?”

“We are.”  Rian nodded, not surprised that the well-trained and brilliant scientist would pick up on it.  “Slowly, but moving nonetheless.  Avalon Proper drifts between the two poles of the planet maintaining a vaguely elliptical path that takes approximately a year to complete.  At the moment we’re a few weeks away from our southern-most point of the path and hovering over the Tintagel river system, where we’ll be within sight of Pendragon Keep, one of our land-side cities, in a few days.  The planet has several continents as you’re no doubt aware, though we’ve yet to branch out and settle them.  Camelot is massive, and we don’t want to lose touch with our people due to travel times.”

“You stated that Avalon was an Empire.”  Selek said, question inherent in his words.

“And we are.”  Rian nodded, resting lightly against the window sill as the half-Vulcan studied the landscape before him.  “Your ship the _Valiant_ is currently invading our airspace as the Camelot binary star system belongs in its entirety to the Empire of Avalon and his Grace the King.”

“A monarchy?”

“With a pair of governing bodies that carry out the Kings laws and justice, yes.”  Rian agreed.  “Not entirely the feudal system you were concerned with, no?”

“Will I be allowed to meet with him, the King?”

“We’re in the midst of a celebration season.”  Rian shook his head, amusement over the ironic question buried too deep for even someone of Spock Prime’s caliber to find.  “I’m afraid that unless you have several months to waste, that you’ll likely be unable to obtain a formal audience with his Grace as he travels to the various cities, outposts, and holdfasts for the celebrations.  However, you will be able to meet with the Lord High Ambassador, Lord Mycroft Holmes, as well as some of the royal household and Privy Council, as it’s the royal Healer who is overseeing your care.”  Rian cocked his head, fascinated by the vision Selek made more than he’d been by anyone in years as he felt the ever-present ache deep inside ease, just a bit.

Selek wasn’t one of _his_ but he was close…very close.

For the first time in a long time, Hadrian felt something close to hope for his own survival instead of a heavy fatalism that had come hand-in-hand with the activation of the Pendragon bloodline curse.

“Out of curiosity, are you interested in meeting him as a member of the Vulcan High Council or as a representative of Starfleet?”

“Ideally both.”  Selek answered promptly.  “As I’ve never fully retired from either.  There was no mention of this planet or this system being claimed at any time I can remember – not in either of my realities.  One of the directives when making First Contact with a species considered to have reached a certain level of advancement is presenting information regarding the United Federation of Planets, of which Vulcan was and is a founding member.”

“You’ll find you’ll have your chance.”  Rian said before escorting the half-Vulcan back over to the bed and insisting that he lay back down.  “We may be ruled by a King but he listens to and values the advice of his Council and Household, of which you will eventually meet more than one.  The Healer should be here shortly to take readings, it would be best if you don’t overtax yourself in the meantime, that coma you were in was no small thing.”

“This Fountain, the pink light, you say did this to me.”  Selek stared at one of his youthful hands before flicking his gaze over to lock on verdant green eyes that were all at once guileless and shuttered.  “What, is it, exactly?”

“A power source, no different than the dilithium that powers the Starfleet.”  Rian flicked a half-smile at the half-Vulcan.  “In that way, your scientific explanation of radiation exposure is rather _on-point_.  You were exposed to a massive source of power your body had no way of channeling, and as a result your cellular structure began to spontaneously repair and reconstruct yourself, turning you into a much-younger version of yourself, but with the same amount of years lived and the memories and life experiences that went along with it.  At least,” he laughed a little bit, knowing that the _real_ cause was much less science-y than he’d made it sound.  “That’s what we posit happened.  We’ve seen examples of the Fountain interacting with organic lifeforms before, but nothing the same as what you’ve experienced.”

Selek took that in stoically, this not being the first time he’d been _accidentally_ turned into an experiment of one form or another.  At least this time there wasn’t a nervous Leonard waiting around the corner with one of his wicked hypos, or waiting anxiously for him to stop breathing.  Small comforts in the wake of mind-shattering changes, but comforts nonetheless.

Before long, the strain of the cellular regeneration once more caught up with him, and Selek found himself fading out into unconsciousness, before he could ask another of the hundreds of questions floating around in his inquisitive mind.

…

“How is he?”  Andromeda asked her King – and distant cousin – quietly as Hadrian kept watch over the strange _Vulcan_ that had found his way into the King’s path…and current protection.

She wasn’t comfortable with this farce of his, playing the commoner Scout, not in the least.

But it was a sure way to gain unfiltered information, Hadrian was right in that.

This Spock che’Sarek might be an aged and wise Ambassador, but even the canniest of politicians on their home world had fallen into Hadrian’s well-baited traps, and they knew who they were dealing with all along, a luxury his Grace was disinclined to offer this stranger, their first link to the strange and distant future Hadrian’s Ritual had cast them into.

They needed information too much to play nice, the Black in her agreed with that.

However, she like many others, had noticed how…distant Hadrian had grown in recent years, preferring the wilds of Camelot to the comforts of Skye Palace and Avalon City.  Many rumbled that it was due to his warrior’s core being changed by their new home causing him to roam.  And maybe it was at that.

One thing Andromeda knew for certain was that the cost of the choice Hadrian had made weighed heavy on him still – and she like many others would give almost anything to alleviate it.

Adding the activation of the bloodline curse on top of it and well…

Perhaps a bit of distraction in the form of a stranger wasn’t the _worst_ thing that could happen to her King after all…

“Intelligent, as I’d thought, frightfully so.”  Hadrian reported.  “Showed almost no signs that his sudden change in circumstances has shaken him, the Vulcan disconnect between emotions and rational thought truly is a sight to see in action.  But he wolfed down his meal like a starving man and dropped off to sleep within moments of lying back down, his body, though it appears stronger and perhaps more flexible than our own musculoskelature, needs time to bounce back from the strain the Fountain subjected it to.”

“Have you run a diagnostic to substantiate your theory?”

“Not yet.”  Hadrian shook his head.  “It’s mere observation at this point based on his recover times and watching him relearn his younger body.  He may not be as strong and myself or your cousin and cousin-in-law…but I would say its close.  My preference would be to wait for his conscious agreement to any testing, I’m not sure how much he picks up from his surroundings while in a sleep-like state.”

“Very well.”  Andromeda gave a short nod, forcefully biting back the urge to curtsy or use his title.  “Send for me once he’s aware, and we’ll see what a diagnostic can tell us about one Ambassador Selek of Starfleet and the Vulcan High Council.”

…

_Two Weeks Later_

“Ambassador Selek, what is your analysis of this _Tovenaar_ culture?”  Starfleet’s Admiral Marcus demanded his report during the scheduled meeting being played out on the view screen on the _Valiant’s_ bridge.  “And is this energy source of theirs dangerous?”

After a week of observation, the Tovenaar healers had allowed Selek to make contact once more with his party, who in turn reported his _unlucky_ collision with the energy source’s – a.k.a the Fountain’s – radiation field…and the startling effects.

Any idea of studying the energy source by the party or even Selek had been immediately denied and rebuffed most assiduously by the Tovenaar King’s Council, as relayed during his meeting with the Lord High Ambassador.

“Any energy source as the potential to be dangerous, Admiral.”  Ambassador Sarek chided the man.  “Rather, I believe that the analysis of the culture itself will be most telling as to whether it could be a threat to the Federation or not.  Selek?”  Spock Prime’s counterpart’s father prompted him.

“They are an interesting study in anthropology.”  Selek said, tone almost musing.  “I would say that I could remain here for the rest of my life and still not fully understand all of their ways.  However, from what I have been told and observed for myself, they have a ridged code and structure of authority under their emperor and king.  The question should therefore properly be: is this King Hadrian dangerous?  And as to that I cannot answer.  However, given my contact with the healers and other members of the capitol city, I would say that while the Tovenaar seem almost feudal at first glance they are also highly advanced in all ways save that of space exploration.”

“How highly advanced?”  Admiral Pike asked, deeply interested in this new race.

“Very.”  Selek said dryly.  “They have a way of harnessing and using the natural energy source of this planet that is unlike anything else I have ever seen, especially defensively such as their shields that somehow can prevent one from viewing that which they don’t want viewed in a high-form of cloaking, I myself have seen this, being unaware that a building or place existed until I crossed the shield-cloak perimeter.”

“You say you’ve been unable to make contact with their ruler?”  Sarek observed shrewdly.  “Are you certain such a being actually exists?”

“Yes.”  Selek nodded sharply.  “I have seen compelling evidence of his existence both from my observations of his people and my investigations into the palace and capitol.  I have even met his two “foster brothers” who are respectively the Lord High Ambassador and an extremely intelligent scientist, indeed it was during my meeting with the latter that I was able to run some tests of my own on the Tovenaar to try and discern their etymology.”

“What of it?”  Admiral Marcus frowned.  “Aren’t they just another humanoid race?”

“Not exactly, Admiral.”  Selek shook his head, excitement gleaming in his dark brown eyes.  “Rather they are close genetic cousins to humans – closer even than the relationship between human and Vulcan or Vulcan and Romulan.  A fourth “sister species” if you will for the currently known three that are most closely related in the galaxy.”

“That is exciting news indeed, Selek.”  Sarek said, nodding approvingly at his discovery.  “Will they be amenable to joining the Federation?  Perhaps interested in trading some of their advanced defensive technology for that of space exploration?”

The Vulcans all murmured amongst each other at the idea.  The loss of their home planet had been a devastating blow to them all.  If technology exists that could help prevent another such happening, they would be the first to welcome the Tovenaar into the galactic fold.

“Perhaps.”  Selek allowed after thinking a moment.  “Such a thing would have to be broach with the Tovenaar’s Privy Council and decided upon by their king.  Their elected body serves to assist with the governance of the people and adjudicate matters of lawbreaking.  Which could very well work in the favor of the Federation as the Tovenaar as a whole I’ve observed to be rather insular and ethnocentric.  Wary, to say the least, of dealing with outsiders while the Council members and those of the royal family hand household I’ve had dealings with have been on the whole much more open to my presence in their capitol.”

“Are they a pre-warp people?”  The Andorian representative asked.  “While our code of non-interference of pre-warp societies has been partially negated by the accident that led to your nearly identical appearance to your younger counterpart, I believe I speak for many of us when I saw that seeking the membership of a pre-warp society in the Federation would be fool-hardy.”

“That is difficult to determine.”  Selek said reluctantly.  “There technology is so vastly different than any I’ve seen – even in my lifetime.  However, I have experienced instantaneous travel with my guide.”

“See what you can arrange, Ambassador Selek.”  He was told after nearly an hour of discussion among the Federation representatives.  “If the Empire of Avalon wishes to join the Federation, the Federation Council would be glad to hear their request.”

“As you wish, Admirals, Councilors, Ambassadors.”  He nodded to the representatives, lifting his hand in his normal salute.  “Live long and prosper.”

…

“How have you enjoyed your stay with us, Ambassador?”  Mycroft Holmes asked politely as he sat down with Selek in what the Vulcan believed was his official office for state business.

“It has been educational.”  Selek replied gracefully accepting the cup of tea the man offered him.  One thing he would miss about this world and these people was their food.  After living most of his life on a replicated diet, he’d never given much thought to what mostly organic, natural food tasted like.  They both nourished the boy, mostly the same, and the few times he would have natural food at an outpost or planetside he would notice it tasted good but rarely would he have it for an extended period.  Now that he has, he wasn’t looking forward to the journey on the _Valiant_ to New Vulcan that Sarek has approved for colonization.  “My guide has been most helpful.”

“I imagine he would be.”  Mycroft allowed.  “Rian has always been the best of us, though he would protest any such labelling.  His becoming a Guardian was of therefore no surprise.  Though…”  Mycroft sighed as if put-upon.  “One does wish that he would choose another field beyond that of a Scout.”

“He’s young still.”  Selek pointed out, thinking about the many young men he’s had similar thoughts of over the years, only for them to turn out to be Starfleet Captains or Admirals later in life.  “I have found over the years that often young men need a bit of adventure to sustain them through their less-exciting careers later in life.”

“Freedom, I would say, rather than adventure.”  Mycroft concealed an internal eye-roll.  As if Hadrian needed more adventure in his life after the amount he experience in his teenage years.  “But I take your point.  Now.”  He set his cup aside.  “What can I do for you, Ambassador.”

“As you know, I recently returned to my ship to speak with representatives from the Federation Council.”  Selek said, choosing his words wisely.  “They have heard my report of your people and have determined that the Tovenaar and the Empire of Avalon would be a welcome addition to their ranks, should your council and king choose to pursue such an endeavor.”

“I see.”  Mycroft folded his hands precisely in his lap as he mulled that over.  Hadrian was going to be _impossible_ to live with after this.  It was playing out exactly as he’d thought.  But then as a King, he’d gotten frightfully good at anticipating the reactions of other governments, just as Mycroft and his father had spent years teaching him to do.  “And what does such a membership and endeavor entail?  Why would we as a people pursue such a thing?”

“The United Federation of Planets is a federal republic composed of planetary sovereignties.  Each planetary government exists semi-autonomously under a single central authority.  They hold up the ideals of universal liberty, rights, justice, peace and equality, and what might mean the most to your people: the sharing of knowledge and resources in peaceful cooperation, including space exploration.  As a member people, you would retain your own political and social structure with the Federation as an advisory body.”

“And where does your Starfleet come into things?”  Mycroft probed, hearing nothing in that well-rehearsed speech that hinted at the organization Hadrian had described existed in Selek’s mind, beyond the tidbit of space exploration.

“Starfleet is the scientific and peace-keeping arm of the Federation.”  Selek told him seriously.  “They provide services such as border defense, diplomatic envoys, and exploration but also are capable of defensive military action, if required.”

“And what would the other member planets want from us if we were to submit our candidacy for membership?”  Mycroft arched a brow.  “There must be something they want?  We’re not a space-faring society, though we have control of our home system.  Nor do we use the same forms of economy or fuel as what you have discussed with Rian, myself, and my brother Sherlock.  What is it, Ambassador, that you have been ordered to procure?”  He asked decisively.  “The origin of your newfound youth, perhaps?”

“Not as such.”  Selek shook his head.  “They understood that your people have tight control – normally – over who has access to the energy source that result in this,” he swept a hand down his body.  “And did not press the issue with me.  However, I did mention your unique and intriguing cloaking and shielding capabilities.  My native people the Vulcans are particularly interested in arranging a technological partnership.”

Mycroft hummed, unsure of how feasible such an idea would be.

Magic, after all, rarely behaved itself in a way that allowed applications beyond that used by a magical person.

But Hadrian had been clear, he wanted to know more about the Federation, to feel them out, and membership in the body when there are not as…genial…groups in this future they’re living in now would give him what he needed to make the right decisions to protect their people.

There was just one problem: how to get Hadrian an audience with the right people without giving the game away.

“I will bring your request before the king, Ambassador.”  Mycroft decided standing.  “We should have an answer for you, perhaps by the next night.”

“Thank you for hearing me, Lord Holmes.”  Selek stood and gave his salute.  “Live long and prosper.”

…

“Tricky, tricky.”  Hadrian mused, prowling through his private chambers while his nearest and dearest were present for Mycroft’s report of the meeting with the interesting Vulcan.

“I’m reluctant to have Ambassador Selek leave and undergo testing outside of our purview, your Grace.”  Andromeda told him, lightly frowning as she rubbed at her barely-visible bump.  She and Ted had finally gotten lucky in the twilight of their fertility and were adding another member to their family.  Dora was alternately ecstatic and confused at the idea of having a sibling younger than her own two children.  “There is no telling what their scientific analyses might divulge, leaving us vulnerable if we’re not protected by membership under this Federation aegis.”

“While they nominally maintain almost Utopian ideals.”  Mycroft gave his assessment.  “I believe that with over a hundred and fifty member planets that there would be more than one that wouldn’t hesitate to use our unprotected – as far as they can tell – state against us in order to procure the “energy source” that gave the Ambassador a new lease on life.  Where if we were one of them…well…” he shrugged.  “They can pressure and prod as much as they like, but they won’t be able to do much more with the protection of the other planets backing us.  And these Klingons and Romulans and Cardassians all sound far beyond our abilities to cope with on our own.”

“He’s right.”  Sirius told him.  “While we’re investigating using the native power found in his system to create a system-wide warding scheme, we’re years away from actually implementing it.  And having their abilities in space-travel to assist with the endeavor would speed up the timeline greatly.”

Hadrian moved to stare out of the large window beside his desk, a place where he often stood to brood ever since his bloodline curse became active.  There was something about the Ambassador that alternately soothed the curse and riled it up.  As if he was _almost_ a match for him, or part of him.  But not quite.  No.  Not quite what he needed.  He’d already met every soul of his people.  If his mates were already born – and he hoped they were – then they weren’t among them.  That was one of the main reasons he was so torn by this decision, not wanting it to be tainted by his own desires to seek them out in the vastness of modern life rather than doing what is strictly best for his people.

Looking out over the royal gardens, he saw Selek, the Vulcan of the hour, sitting under an arbor of wisteria, drinking in the light and views of Avalon.

Almost.

But not quite.

“Make it a condition of our agreement that a diplomatic envoy meet with the Federation president and council.”  He told his oldest foster brother.  “And that Ambassador Selek is permanently assigned to Camelot as their representative here.  Others may be welcomed as representatives of the various member planets or for approved research purposes.”  His green eyes flashed as he looked back at his family.  “But Selek, and the remarkable transformation he has undergone, remains _here_.”

“Who will be the envoy?”  Remus asked.  “Mycroft?”

“If he’ll accept.”  Hadrian smiled.  “Apparently a trip to San Francisco is in order.”

“Of course, Hadrian.”  Mycroft gave a short nod.  “I’ve so missed political scheming.  I imagine Lord Malfoy will be quite jealous.”

“I’m sure he will.”  A half-grin tugged at the corner of Hadrian’s well-formed mouth.  “But you won’t be going alone.”  His eyes glinted mischievously.  “No.  I believe a security escort is in order.”

“Hadrian…”  Remus growled.  “I don’t like that look in your eyes.”

“You can’t go, Harry.”  Sirius sighed, shaking his head.  “We can’t have you gone for months at a time without contact.  Even when we went into the Fields to find the Fountain you were within contact or transport at all times.”

“I can if the Valiant stays here.”  He answered softly.  “To support the Ambassador in his duties and research while the membership is decided.  And who better than me to go?  This is ultimately my decision, one that will impact us for centuries to come.  And even with my support…Mycroft cannot _legally_ sign off on a treaty of this magnitude.”

“A masquerade.”  Sherlock spoke softly.  “Until the hour strikes and you’re unmasked, to shock and awe of all those unknowing.  Scout Rian, I would presume?”

“He’s worked so far.”  Hadrian shrugged.  “Even a Vulcan as observant and intelligent as Selek has failed to put the missing King Hadrian together with the Scout.  So long as the other member or members of the envoy don’t give away the game, I can’t see anything going wrong.”

“Famous last words.”  Mycroft said dryly.  “Who else?”

“Sirius,” he tilted his head towards the Animagus.  “And Remus of course.”

“There’s not a more dangerous and capable trio in on the plan.”  Severus sighed from where he sat in the shadows.  “Unless you take myself and Lucius but I don’t believe my oldest friend would fare well with space travel.”

“I chose for another reason.”  Hadrian said softly.  “We’re going to Earth – and off all of us, only us three with active cores have been changed utterly by Camelot.  We can survive the separation from the native power of either planet better than another would or could.  And not be tempted to stay on our first home and possibly be affected by my Curse.”

“You think it might still be active?”  Severus frowned.

“It’s entirely possible,” Hadrian said wryly.  “Unless it died out when the fifty years was up, but it’s impossible to predict how Earth would handle having active magicals present once again.  It’s too dangerous for anyone else to go.  And if things have recovered…then I might be able to undo what was once done.”

Breaths were sucked in all around at that proclamation.

“Undoing a Curse that’s been in place for over two hundred years planetwide is dangerous in the extreme.”  Sirius told him eyes wide.  “We know the world survived.  As you said it would.  Why would you risk undoing things _now_?”

“Because Earth, or Terra, was meant to be a magical world.”  Hadrian’s voice was quiet, grieving.  “Just like Camelot.  I don’t know that once I’m there I’ll be able to resist trying to return Her to how she should rightly be.”

“We can arrange things.”  John spoke after several long moments.  “Make it so our people assume you’re off on another communion with the planet or have decided to Scout some of the other continents via the Fountains.  But listen to me, Harry.”  His original savior stared him down.  “You can’t let your guilt over what has passed override your good sense into doing something that might have devastating effects – not just on yourself but also Earth.  Do you hear me little one?  Your people need their king, your family needs our Hadrian.  Even Camelot needs Her guardian.  Don’t do anything that would take you from us _all_.”

“I won’t.”  Hadrian swore, turning once more to stare out at Selek as they, having his orders and agreement, began the process of working it out.  “I won’t.”

…

_U.S.S. Enterprise, Bridge_

“Captain.”  Uhura spoke, gaining the attention of the officers on deck.  “We have a transmission from Starfleet command.”

“On screen.”  Captain James T. Kirk ordered as he stood, his friend and first officer Spock coming to stand at his side.

The screen went blank before the picture of Admiral Pike filled up the screen, bringing a smile to most of those on the bridge.

“Hello, Jim.”  Pike cracked a smile, “Spock.”

“Admiral.”  They answered back.  “Good to see you,” Jim added.

“I know you’re do back in port soon, however there is one last job for the Enterprise before you return home for repairs and leave.”

“Of course, sir.”  Jim said immediately.  “Whatever you need.”

“Ambassador Selek has made First Contact with a previously unknown people in what is now known as the Avalon System, your star maps should have recently been updated.”

“They have, Admiral.”  Sulu answered.  “Interesting names: Avalon, Camelot.”

“Theirs, not a flight of fancy in cartography I’m afraid.”  Pike laughed lightly shaking his head.  “Anyway, the point is that they have been approved for membership in the Federation but they’re hesitant about joining.  Selek has agreed to stay on Camelot while they send a diplomatic envoy with a small accompaniment to meet with the Council and President.”

“And you want us to play taxi.”  Jim finished knowingly.  “No problem, Admiral.  I’ll have Sulu chart a course for the Avalon system.”

“Excellent.”  Pike nodded his head.  “And Kirk?  This is an important envoy.  Several of the member planets, including New Vulcan,” he looked meaningfully at Spock.  “Are extremely interested in some of their technology.  We don’t want this to get screwed up by _someone_ seducing a highly ranked member of their government.”

Jim sighed rolling his eyes at the almost-fatherly condemnation.

“Keep my hands off the envoy, got it.”

“It’s not the envoy I’m worried about.”  Pike chuckled Selek having sent ahead profiles of who to expect.  “But one of the guards, all of whom are high-ranking in their own right, not replaceable drones.  Be careful, Jim.”

There was more than one warning hidden in the Admiral’s words, Jim reflected as the communication was cut.

“What can you tell me?”  Jim asked his first officer as Spock reviewed the information on the new people forwarded by his older counterpart and updated in the Federation archives.  “Friendly, cold, aggressive?”

“Human.”  Spock answered, to his audience’s shock.  “Or nearly so, the Tovenaar are closer in their genetic structure to humans than even humans are to Vulcans or Vulcans to Romulans.  They’re also very close to Vulcans as well, easily on par with the same degree of relation as human to Vulcan.  My counterpart reports that they are civilized, advanced, intelligent, with a strong political, social, and judicial structure and are led by an absolute monarchy.  I would say.”  Spock speculated.  “That the phrase “minding your manners” would be particularly apt when dealing with his envoy, a society that has such a strong framework guiding it could potentially be harshly unforgiving of offenses.”

“Which would be why Pike warned off Jim.”  Bones laughed from where he was reading over Spock’s shoulder, tapping a series onto his own datapad and having the picture he’d found pop up on the bridge screen.  “And _that_ would be the other reason why.”

The screen showed a full-body scan, in three-quarters view, of an extremely handsome male Tovenaar dressed in some form of animal hide that wrapped lovingly around his very-male body.  Long ebony hair was tied back in a braid of some kind, reaching past his shoulder blades.  The male had honey-kissed skin, a beautiful face with full red lips and aristocratic cheekbones, and the greenest eyes any of them had ever seen.  Wide shoulders tapered to a narrow waist over long legs, his height reading six-foot-four according to the statistics display on the side of the screen.  A slight smile teased at one corner of a red mouth and there seemed to be a weapon of some kind strapped at hip and on his back.

“Holy shit.”  Jim breathed eyes wide.  “ _That’s_ who Pike is worried about me messing around with?”

“That’s what I’m going to put my credits on.”  Bones chuckled, eyeing the scan appreciatively himself.  “The others are all attractive or even very handsome, but nothing like him.”  He flicked the data pad and the screen quartered, showing an older states-man type “the ambassador” Spock said.  “The other guards.”  Bones added as a scan of an amber-eyed man with scars and sandy hair followed by – as Bones had said – a very handsome man with silver eyes and ebony hair that brushed his shoulders.

“The ambassador is titled as Lord High Ambassador.”  Spock read out.  “Named Mycroft Holmes.  The guards are Lord High Justice Sirius Black,” he pointed towards the silver-eyed man.  “His _mate_ Remus Lupin, and the green-eyed one is given the title of Scout with a name of Rian, no last or family name provided.  However, my counterpart has noted that this Rian is as the admiral implied, important in the Tovenaar social structure, likely due to his excellence in a dangerous field.”

“In other words, Jim:” Bones drawled.  “Piss him off at your own peril.  That’s no Admirals daughter or important diplomat.  He’s a powerful Tovenaar more than capable of taking you apart without getting his bosses involved.”

“Yeah.”  Jim said helplessly, still staring – and pining a bit – over the scan of the green-eyed-vixen.  “I know.”

 


	10. The Starship Enterprise

** Harder Choices **

**Chapter Nine: The Starship Enterprise**

Hadrian set the spellwork into the non-magical chess piece – a King since he was feeling whimsical – smiling when it took as easily as it ever had.

He was right, change _had_ come to Camelot, this time in the form of a pointy-eared ambassador instead of Cami herself deciding to meddle with her “new lifes.”

And one of the things impacted was his magic, the constant drain he’d felt for _years_ since the double-whammy of his use of the Emrys curse and the Ritual to move the Tovenaar combined with the activation of his Pendragon bloodline curse to curtail his magic.

Oh, he was still one of the most powerful among his people, even with the strain he was under.

But for many years, his magic hadn’t been as flawless, smooth, and well _easy_ as it had always been for him, barring a few _incidents_ in his adolescence and childhood.

Some of the strain had lessened when Cami had perfected him, but some of the remaining pressure had remained which sloughed off when he’d bulldozed Selek right out of the Fountain.

Severus speculated that it had to do with Selek being “almost” one of Hadrian’s mates, closer than anyone else he’d ever met.  That his “almost-ness” was enough to help lessen the strain of the curse.  Hadrian rather thought Severus might be right.

Though for the sake of the blooming interest between the snarky potions master and the intrigued ambassador, Hadrian was glad that Selek _wasn’t_ one of his.

Hadrian tucked away the portkey and easily shouldered his expanded pack, the tough dragonhide gone soft with age and use but still as durable and smoke-grey as ever.  He, Siri, and Remy were all old hands at packing for an excursion, though this time they’d also packed a great deal of rations in case replicated food didn’t sit well with them.  Or even just as a matter of preference.  Mycroft wasn’t nearly as adept at the practice, being absurdly avoidant of “leg-work”, and for the last ten or so years having settled down – mostly – with Anthea and their three children.  Children who would have to do without their Papa for what should only be a week or two at the outside.

Remus had set up Mycroft with a packing list and a pack nearly identical to the ones the “wildest” trio of Tovenaar ran around the planet with on their scouting trips – especially during the year they devoted to finding what turned out to be the Fountain hidden below the Mars Fields.

Whether Hadrian’s older foster-brother _followed_ said list was a cause of some heavy betting between Hadrian and the other members of his Council, especially with John who in light of Mycroft’s advancement had taken over as the mundane emissary.  They weren’t sure yet if one was even really _needed_ per se, with Selek being the only person planetside John would to serve as a go-between for and that duty was being handled neatly by Severus at the moment.  But, Hadrian went ahead and invested John anyway, just in case Camelot ended up with more than Selek visiting in the interest of scientific study or what have you.

Checking the time with an absent bit of spellwork, Hadrian apparated to the beacon-site they’d allowed to remain in the Mars Fields – after moving it several dozen kilometers away from the entrance leading to the Fountain anyway – to find that he was the last to arrive, the others having gone ahead via portkey.

All of the magicals present were more than capable of apparation around their new home, despite the increased gravity and magical interference from Cami making it too much effort for the majority of the Tovenaar population.

Unless one had above average power levels, which Severus, his normal combatant Sirius, and Remus all possessed, let alone Hadrian.

The portkey was more for the benefit of the other two members of the party, Selek and Mycroft, the former who would be remaining behind with the potions master once he had discharged his duty of providing an introduction to the small party who were going to “beam” down to the beacon and provide communicators that would assist in “beaming” the quartet of Tovenaar up to the second starship that had taken up hovering far in the sky above the atmosphere of the Mars Fields.

Selek had been uncertain as to who the ship would send, as to quote the captain of the _Valiant_ , the _Enterprise_ crew were known for being “cowboys” who did things their own way…especially the Captain.

That said, the newly-young half-Vulcan wasn’t exactly surprised that once the beams had stabilized that it was his counterpart who had been sent to greet them, with a few Security drones along for safety.

Though, Selek found himself impressed that his counterpart _had_ somehow convinced Jim to stay behind with the ship.

“Ambassador.”  Spock nodded genially to his older self.  “You are looking…surprisingly well.”

“Damn.”  One of the Tovenaar Spock recognized from the vids as Lord High Justice Sirius Black muttered under his breath to his two closest companions Remus Lupin who had some significance in the Tovenaar government though _what_ hadn’t been revealed, and the young Scout Rian.  Selek and his dark-haired escort as well as the Tovenaar Ambassador were standing a bit away with a trio of scolding looks, obviously unknowing of the other Tovenaar’s words – save for Selek - but aware that they were likely to be less-than-discrete.  “I know you said he had another self running amok but I wasn’t expecting _this_ , pup.”

Spock frowned briefly at the nickname directed at the Scout, it denoting a familiarity between the high government official and the glorified – however well-respected among his people – bodyguard.

A familiarity that didn’t quite _fit_ with the information provided by Ambassador Selek…and judging by the flicker of surprise crossing Spock’s counterpart’s face, one that he was previously unaware of despite spending several weeks with the scout as his nearly-constant companion.

Interesting, Spock decided.  That such a thing had slipped Selek’s notice.  Though it was too early to discern if it was a _thoughtful_ omission on the part of the Tovenaar or merely one due to a lack of opportunity for observation.

“Ambassador, gentlemen.”  Selek introduced them with his normal politeness despite the puzzle that had just been presented to himself and his younger counterpart.  “This is Commander Spock che’Sarek, First Officer and head of the Science division for the _USS Enterprise_.  And as you are all aware, my counterpart in this timeline.  Commander Spock.”  Selek gestured to each Tovenaar in turn.  “These are the members of the Tovenaar envoy the _Enterprise_ will be escorting to meet with officials from the Federation and Starfleet: Ambassador Holmes, Lord Black, Lord Lupin, and Scout Rian, as well as my companion Lord Prince.”

“Remus, please.”  The Lord High Chancellor – though the half-Vulcans and more importantly Starfleet and their Federation were unaware of that fact – of Avalon told them lightly.  “Or Mr. or even Professor Lupin if you prefer.  Mine is a courtesy title, not one of birth.”

Severus rolled his eyes with a snort at the humbleness that was honestly unbecoming of the secondary head of the Avalonian government stating dryly:  “I assure you gentlemen, his title is much more than courtesy.  However, if the wolf offers, you would do well to accommodate his frankly-absurd level of humbleness.”

Hadrian simply watched with amusement as the trio of long-time combatants went through their rehearsed skit of verbal barbs that drew attention to Remus and Sirius’s high positions in the government despite their coming along as guards, and well away from his own.

They all knew – and had therefore planned countermeasures – that his going by without giving a false last name and the respect shown him by highly-placed Tovenaar for “only” being a Scout was likely to draw attention and curiosity he didn’t want – especially with his place on an envoy that was otherwise filled with high-ranking officials.

To that end, they had concocted the little mummery of Remus trying to downplay his importance and being called-out for it by Severus – who ostensibly held no position in government other than working closely with the royal household, and therefore wouldn’t be aware if Remus’s act had been an attempt at subterfuge by the Avalonian envoys.

Spock was likely to assume it was, as such a thing would fit with the information relayed by his counterpart, and it would be covered in his report to Starfleet.

Creating a situation where the Federation and their armada were under the impression that subterfuge wasn’t something the Tovenaar excelled at – likely due to their closed-off and ethnocentric culture.

Which was _precisely_ what Hadrian and Mycroft were hoping for.

Nothing like a dab of political slight-of-hand theatricality to start the day off with, not to mention the diplomatic trip as a whole.

Well…

More than the political slight-of-hand/shell game they’d been playing with King Hadrian/Scout Rian ever since said King/Scout tackled a half-Vulcan Ambassador out of one of the Camelot Fountains anyway.

“Transportation via a personnel transport unit can be disorienting for the first several encounters.”  Spock spoke briskly, as if he hadn’t noticed the by-play at all, handing out the four communicators that would be used to get a transport lock on the quartet of envoys or guards.  “However, as your planet has some sort of interference that makes shuttle landings unreliable and Ambassador Selek has experienced no problems beaming despite said interference, it has been decided as the best possible solution.”

“And these,” Hadrian held up one of the small silver pins that Selek had prompted them to attach to their shirts.  “Are to help focus the transporter ‘beam’ correct?”

“That is accurate.”  Spock nodded sharply, watching from warm brown eyes that hid his thoughts over the by-play between the various Tovenaar as they took their leave from his counterpart and Lord Prince.

Especially when one of the envoys – Lord Lupin – leaned over and asked a low question of the youngest Tovenaar, a question obviously pitched to avoid being heard, though not taking into account Spock’s excellent hearing that was much better than a human’s – or in this case he would assume a Tovenaar’s.

“You’re on edge, cub.”  Remus whispered as Sirius and Severus shot a few commonplace barbs at each other.  “What’s wrong?”

The Scout simply shook his head, allowing Spock to catch a glimpse of clearly-agitated emerald eyes, the first time he’d gotten a clear look at the other male’s face, allowing him to see what Scout Rian’s counterpart clearly had – something was chipping away at the Tovenaar’s control, unleashing – _something_ – Spock couldn’t correctly categorize on first encounter with the scout’s species.

“Later.”  Hadrian brushed it off, shoving his roaring instincts down, _hard_.  He didn’t have time for this right now.  Not now.  It was possibly the _worst_ possible timing in the galaxy.  He did _not_ have the luxury of his bloodline curse acting up and throwing a wobbly.  He just didn’t, no matter _what_ it might imply – both about himself _and_ about the half-Vulcan standing and watching him like a scientist at a microscope.  “I’ll be fine.  Let’s just get this… _beaming_ over with.  Ambassador Selek.”  Rian nodded, the others echoing him.  “It has been a pleasure.  Lord High Ambassador, we await your orders.”

“Indeed.”  Mycroft arched a brow then nodded at the half-Vulcan in the Starfleet uniform.  “On your mark, Commander Spock.”

Tapping the comm on his shirt, Spock gave the order.

“Spock to _Enterprise._ ”  Selek and Severus stepped well back out of the range of the beacon and communicators.  “Five to beam up.  Energize.”

…

Jim waited impatiently in the transporter room for Spock to call for himself and the envoy group to be beamed up, chatting with Scotty and Bones, who was under orders to take scans of the diplomat and his guards to get a baseline in case they needed medical attention while under the protection of Starfleet during the talks with the Federation.

As they waited, Jim felt a creeping feeling climbing up the back of his neck, the same that had sent him searching for a bar and a brawl five years ago and ultimately led to his joining Starfleet.

Spock would probably give him some kind of textbook analysis going into hormonal shifts and the human mammalian response to changes in the atmosphere or some shit.

Bones would just grunt at him and tell him to trust his damn instincts already.

They may have led them into more than one – or a dozen – scraps but they _also_ drug them right back out again.

It was that level of instinctual knowledge that made Jim such a damned good captain, and one of the reasons Pike came looking for him years ago in addition to his frankly impressive aptitude scores.

So, when Spock called for transport only to show up with the expected quartet in tow, Jim was relieved.

Nothing had gone wrong, everything was fine, Jim’s “sixth sense” was just acting up.

That was, at least, until the youngest member of the envoy hit his knees with a gasp, his pupils shot so wide that you couldn’t see even a fleck of the deep emerald green from the scans Selek had provided, and Jim cursed under his breath for once again being aware just as things were about to go tits-up on what was supposed to be a simple taxi mission.

There was nothing _simple_ in the subvocal growl coming from the scout, or the way that the black-hair Tovenaar – the older one, not the younger one who was having some sort of fit – planted himself between the one on the deck of the transporter and the golden-eyed Tovenaar that was speaking softly to him and the rest of the people present – including their own Ambassador.

Something about that move, a guard putting himself between the _actual_ guard and the body they were supposed to be protecting, just _screamed_ danger and had Jim reaching for his phaser.

At least, until a very-cultured and crisp sounding voice cut through the drama and frantic energy that was rapidly taking over the transporter bay in the bare-minute the envoy had been on board.

“Captain, you’ll have to excuse our Scout.”  The Lord High Ambassador said briskly, back to the scene playing out of Rian’s fit and Remus trying to calm him enough to get him out of the small room on the starship.  “I am afraid transport, being a new process for our people, has left him feeling a bit… _off_.  Perhaps one of your people could escort Rian and Lord Lupin to Rian’s quarter and allow him to…acclimate to the situation?”

“He’s having a panic attack?”  Jim asked, parsing through the strangely-accented Standard to the meat of the Ambassador’s little speech.  At least the Ambassador was taking the situation calmly, much more so than the crew of the _Enterprise_ or his guards were.  Which made think that either the Ambassador isn’t as _close_ to the Scout as the other two seemed to be – which was possible as the other two Lords were Scouts as well as their high-flown titles – or he was trying to distract them from what was _really_ going on.  Jim thought they both were equally possible but only time would show him which.

Mycroft gave a bare nod to the question, internally shoving down his worry for Hadrian in preference for doing something to alleviate the situation.  He didn’t have the excellent hearing of the mutts – or even their half-Vulcan escort – and couldn’t hear what it was the little king was saying.  And moreover, it worried him that Mr. Spock _might_ be able to decipher from Hadrian’s words during his strange episode.  So, Mycroft did what he did best – he handled the situation.

“That doesn’t look like any panic attack to transport I’ve ever seen, laddie.”  Scotty muttered at Jim’s side, exchanging a _look_ with the Chief Medical Officer from across the room where Bones was trying to assist with the situation.

Jim had to agree, but given that this was a diplomatic mission, he couldn’t call the Tovenaar Ambassador a liar right to his face.

All he could really do was agree and hope that either Spock or Bones had an answer for him later about what was _really_ going on with the male alien lifeform gasping for breath and hissing out quiet words to his companion who was trying with limited success to get him on his feet.

“Very well.”  Jim acquiesced with formal blandness.  “Our Chief Medical Officer will show your guard to sickbay…”

“That won’t be necessary.”  The Ambassador cut him off sharply with a hint of a glare crossing his face.  “Your doctor can show Rian and Lord Lupin to Rian’s room.  Together, I am _certain_ that they can help Rian deal with the… _abrupt_ nature of our transport here.  Meanwhile, I believe that myself and Lord Black will take the previously arranged tour around this rather marvelous starship, ending with the dining room where Lord Lupin and Scout Rian will join us.”

“Very well.”  This time Jim bit out the words, giving Bones a nod and a look that all but ordered his best friend to get to the bottom of the situation with the Scout who was at last standing – with help – his eyes now both pupil-shot and blood-shot, likely from the strain of whatever was causing his fit.  “If your men will follow Doctor McCoy, I would like to welcome you aboard the _Enterprise_ Ambassador Holmes, Lord Black…”

…

“What is it, cub?”  Remus asked frantically as Hadrian fell to his knees on the transporter pad, ignoring all the eyes on them as his mate moved to both block the crew’s view of Hadrian _and_ to provide a buffer in case the younger male completely goes off the plot into a feral state.  It wouldn’t be the first time one of them had a moment of ferity since they’d been perfected by Cami, but this was certainly shaping up to be one of the most inconvenient…if that is, that was what they were actually dealing with here with Hadrian’s reaction to the transport.

Hadrian had the presence of mind, even while fighting with himself, to switch languages, hopefully preventing any of the watching men and Vulcan from understanding what was going on…at least until _Hadrian_ understood what was going on.

“ _Bloodline curse_.”  He half-hissed and half-growled lowly, panting between the words in Gaelic, knowing that his dogfathers would understand him and that Mycroft was too far away to hear him.  “ _It’s all…fighting.  Want, take, have,_ mine.”  He groaned harshly as he shook his head, closing his eyes in the too-bright lights of the starship.  He knew even without looking in a mirrored surface that his pupils were blown, just from how damned piercingly _bright_ everything was around him.  “ _Need space, to breathe._ ”

Thankfully, to Remus’s relief, Mycroft was on the same mental wave-length as his young foster-brother, insisting in his genially firm way that Remus and Hadrian be escorted to Hadrian’s private quarters rather than taken to the medical bay or somewhere else that would be unproductive to Hadrian getting control of himself.

Bones stepped up at Jim’s prompting once Rian was back on his feet, discretely tucking away the tricorder he’d been using to take scans of the quartet, though they were only brief scans of the three apparently healthy Tovenaar, focusing most of the scant minutes he had on scans of the struggling Tovenaar, the Scout Rian.

“Follow me.”  He told the pair, watching with eagle eyes as the sandy-haired older Tovenaar supported the younger brunette.  Something about the sight roused instincts inside Leo that were best left forgotten and suppressed, the doctor ruthlessly shoving them down and away as he led the pair to the turbolift and ordering the computer to take them to the level where the guests were being quartered.  “I’m Doctor Leonard McCoy, the _Enterprise’s_ Chief Medical Officer.”  He introduced himself as he led them away from the group following Jim and Spock.  “We will, of course, follow your lead on Scout Rian’s apparent panic attack.  But please be advised that if it persists or he presents other symptoms, I will have no choice but to order him to the medbay.”

“Understood, Doctor.”  Remus told him with a nod.  “And we will comply, though I believe that it shouldn’t prove necessary.  I’m Remus Lupin, please just call me Remus, and this is Rian.”

“Nice to meet ya.”  Leo nodded, eyes tracking all over the younger Tovenaar.  Something about how the older one – Remus – introduced him didn’t sit right with Leo – with his instincts or with what he knew about their people from Selek’s information.

Goddamn Kirk and his nose for trouble.

Just _once_ Leo would appreciate it if Jim’s sixth sense was wrong, but Leo had a bad feeling that it wasn’t going to be _this_ time.

Something stank in the state of Denmark, and _all_ of it from what Leo could tell, revolved around the young Scout that had had such an adverse reaction to transport that Leo had ever seen – barring _actual_ illnesses caused by the rapidly-evolving tech.

“Well, here we are.”  Leo opened the door to one of the rooms adjoining the Ambassador’s room.  According to the information they’d been given, Jim had assigned the quartet a three-room suite, due to the two Tovenaar – Remus and Lord Black – being a mated pair…whatever that meant in Tovenaar culture, something similar to marriage from what Leo understood…only without the possibility of divorce.  “This is Scout Rian’s room, the door to the left,” Leo pointed to the door in the room’s wall.  “Attaches to the Ambassador’s sitting room, the door on the right is to the bathing facilities.  If you go back out into the hall and turn right out of this room.”  Leo addressed both of them, though he knew it was mainly Remus who was listening with half an ear while helping his younger counterpart onto narrow bunk.  “The first door on your right will be the Ambassador’s door and the one just down from there is the shared quarters for Remus and Lord Black.”

“Thank you, Doctor McCoy.”  Rian forcibly made himself lucid enough to say before falling back into the semi-trance he was using to struggle with his instincts and urges – which were all over the fucking place.  “Your help has been very much appreciated.”

“As he said.”  Remus nodded as he escorted the doctor to the door.  “Thank you.  And thank your captain as well, though I’m sure Rian will do that himself once he’s himself again.  For Captain Kirk’s…sympathy towards the situation.”

“I’ll pass it along.”  Leo nodded.  “Just doing my job.  I’ll see you – both of you hopefully – at the welcome meal in two hours.”

…

Remus barely waited long enough for the door to slide close and lock with a quiet hiss of air before he was turning and digging through his cub’s bag for the potions kit Hadrian always carried.

One thing they had discovered after being perfected was that normal-dosage and normal formulaic potions weren’t as effective as they should be anymore.  Some worked _too_ well or had unexpected side-effects while others worked hardly at all or were little more than nasty-tasting water.  Thankfully, none of the trio of wilder Tovenaar were seriously injured or poisoned by their potions before they figured out what was going on.

Severus had been alternately enervated and consternated by the puzzle presented by their reactions, especially as each of them had different issues with different potions, leading to them each needing personalized potion formulas and dosages…which wasn’t hard to convince him to do for Hadrian but had been a _much_ bigger challenge to do the same for Remus and Sirius.

To his dogfathers’ gratitude, even the snarky Lord Prince caved when faced with Hadrian’s devastating combination of lethal puppy-dog-eyes and unyielding aura of power.

They _had_ learned however what specific changes caused each reaction to various potions ingredients, making Severus’s life easier, as well as the various potions masters on Camelot in general, as some of the newest generation of Tovenaar who were born during the still-ongoing “baby boom” following Hadrian lifting his baby-ban were having similar reactions to that of the perfected trio to bog-standard potions recipes.

“Take it, cub.”  Remus ordered his king and pack-cub firmly, handing him a familiar vial – though it was one used very rarely as they’d acclimated both to Camelot and being perfected – and the changes both situations had wrought in the King of Avalon.  “Now.”

Too shaken to argue, Hadrian readily drained the vial without hesitation, knocking back the Calming Draught without a fight – for once.

Remus gave him several moments for the Draught to take affect before prompting the still-silent form of his cub, though he could tell it was more a matter of Hadrian being lost in his own contemplations of events than willful obstinacy as Hadrian’s shoulders gradually loosened and his jaw unclenched as the iron-will that had been required to force down Hadrian’s more… _primal_ self, waned as the Draught did its job.

“What was that, cub?”  Remus asked quietly.  “I haven’t seen you lose it like that in – ” Remus frowned.  “ _Ever_ , really.  Not even when we _encountered_ the Fountain.”

“It’s my unique…situation, coming into play.”  Hadrian worded his reply carefully after several more long moments of him being lost in his own head and dealing with the aftermath of tangled thoughts, emotions, and impressions that had occurred both consciously and unconsciously as he had attempted to control his brief bout of ferity.  As always, when himself, Hadrian was well-aware of the possibility of his words being…overheard and possibly misconstrued either innocently or intentionally, especially with eh advanced tech of the 23rd Century coming into play more and more in their lives.  “A tangled mess of it hit me – multiple ways – and all at once.”  Rueful emerald green eyes stared into shocked and taken-aback gold.  “Left me a bit… _overwhelmed_ to say the least.”

“ _Fucking Potter luck_.”  Remus muttered under his breath – in German this time.  “Multiple?  Not one or all?  Several?”

“Several.”  Hadrian admitted, chewing lightly on his bottom lip as his eyes went a bit out-of-focus as he tried to decipher all of the feedback he’d gotten during his… _episode_.  “Not all, and with only _one_ of the causes even semi-clear.  I’ll have to…interact with the command crew of the _Enterprise_ very carefully in the next days…see if that might shed some more light on the situation.”

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, cub.”  Remus groaned into his hands.  “ _You Potters have the damnedest luck_ I’ve ever seen.”

…

After finishing the tour and meeting back up with the rest of the command crew, Jim found Bones and Spock huddled over some of the scans the former had gotten when their new guests had arrived.

Spock had only managed to control his rampant curiosity over the so-called “panic-attack” – yeah, and Jim was a Boy-Scout – that the envoy’s main guard had undergone following transport for the first half of the tour, splitting off when they reached the Medical bay.

“Okay, lay it on me.”  Jim told the conferring pair as they discussed the scans, Bones having several up which looked like either a DNA-type analysis or a mass-spec read-out.  “What the _fuck_ was all of that?  And does anyone know what the Scout or Lupin were saying when they dove into other languages?”

That the two men-of-science – for all that Bones would protest that he was strictly a medical doctor, he was just as insatiably curious about new finds and species as Spock – had had the _Enterprise_ ’s computer bring up the vids from the Scout’s common room was a foregone conclusion, much as Jim himself had done, though he’d used his PADD with captions and muted to keep his spying under the radar of the Ambassador and Lord Black.

“The languages were Gaelic and German – which we can assume both Rian and Remus speak and understand fluently.”  Bones reported dryly with an arch of his brow.  “I’m not nearly as good as them, and they speak much faster and smoother than anyone I’ve ever met who still uses those languages on Earth.  What I _did_ understand tells me that whatever is going on with the Scout is personal and restricted to him alone – not something we’re likely to see from the others – and that ‘Potter’ may be Rian’s family name or a nickname of some kind.”

“Okkayy…”  Jim drawled eyes wide.  “And _why_ would a pair of Tovenaar from a planet hundreds of light-years away from Earth speak not one but _two_ of that planet’s dead languages?”

“Got me.”  Leo shrugged.  “Best bet would be some kind of colonization…but I have no _idea_ how that would even be _remotely_ possible.”

“There is still much we do not know about the seeding of the galaxy.”  Spock spoke up semi-warningly.  “It may be that the two species are linked as closely as Doctor McCoy suggests or it may be a completely unrelated instance of happenstance, at this date I do not believe that we have enough information to confirm or deny either possibly or the existence of other explanations.”

Bones continued with his report.

“But what is _really_ interesting.”  Leo gestured to the scans.  “Is the information I mined from the scans.  Spock managed some more both while I was busy with our overwrought guest and on meeting the party, and I snagged some additions to the collections while escorting the two to the guest rooms.”

The doctor pointed to a set of six or so scans all lined up, all a sort of base-line provided by Ambassador Selek according to the name on the taken-by field.  Leo had still been expected to get his own base-line, both to substantiate those provided by Selek and to get readings on the Ambassador who had not previously submitted to testing.

“These are what we’ve agreed are a general base-line for the Tovenaar as a whole.”  Leo rattled off, highlighting a few specific readings that taken together could give a general idea of a subject’s mood: content, happy, afraid, sad; then a more specific breakdown that got into individual hormone and pheromone levels, pupil dilation, sweat production, etc.  “What’s enthralling is that the final scan taken of the Ambassador by Mister Spock falls in the beginning of the resting-state curve for the Tovenaar as a whole.”

“Meaning,” Jim filled in the blanks.  “He’s calmer, less reactive, more controlled.  What you would expect from a highly-placed diplomat.”

“Exactly.”  Spock nodded in agreement.  “But what is, well, _fascinating_ is that both in the scans provided by my counterpart as well as all those taken by both myself and Doctor McCoy, is that all three of our other guests place significantly _higher_ on the resting-state curve than any other Tovenaar who was scanned by Selek – even the Scout who we’ve yet to gain a clean scan of since meeting him on the surface.”

That was worth a raise of Jim’s brow.  “Even Selek?”  He asked, half-shocked.

Leo nodded.  “Even Selek.  The energy that they use gave fuzzy readings that can be hard to decipher in Selek’s case, and while we’ve gotten more concrete date from our own, due to his state of being, there’s no way to tell what his base-line is…yet.”

“Though based on what we _do_ know about him.”  Spock added.  “I would venture that his placement on the resting-state curve is still higher than most.”

“Agreed.”  Leo tapped a few more commands, bringing up a new set of scans.  “Especially when you compare the scans Spock first took on meeting Rian versus those provided by Selek and the ones I took personally.”

Jim let out a soundless whistle as he saw a clear progression and increase – including massive spikes – in several key areas.

“I’ve never seen a scan like that in my life.”  He admitted, leaning closer in extreme interest at the hormone and pheromone levels the scout had given off after arriving on the _Enterprise,_ levels much higher than anytime else, even the departing scan Bones nabbed before being shooed from the Tovenaar’s quarters.  “Spikes like that in a human would put them in the heart-attack or stroke range.”

“Yep.”  Leo tapped the screen, bringing Jim’s attention to another area.  “And then there’s this.”

“What?”  Jim’s brow furrowed.  “His adrenaline is off the charts high, he’s basically drowning in a combination of hormones that would have a human bouncing off the walls and is _way_ higher than the other Tovenaar, even when they’re clearly various shades of worried about his “attack”, and his body is pumping out _endorphins_?”

“Yep.”  Leo repeated himself dryly, crossing his arms over his chest.  “In increasing amounts – barely noticeable on Selek’s scans, especially considering the energy interference, but still there – more in Spock’s surface scans, a massive spike when I scanned him on the pad, and while there was a decline in his quarters, it really wasn’t much.  It’s like you said Jim: I’ve never seen a scan like it in my life, let alone my career.  I honestly don’t have a friggin’ _clue_ what the black-hell is going on with him.”

“I am afraid I have seen something similar before.”  Spock admitted slowly, sharp brown eyes taking in the scans as the pieces started slotting together.  “Though as he is Tovenaar and not Vulcan – even partially as with myself – I do not know how well it would apply.”

“At this point?”  Jim scoffed, rolling his eyes.  “ _Anything_ would be better than the jack-shit we have right now.  Lay it on me, Spock.  What’s wrong with scout-wonder?”

“I have only seen such scans before during my last year of education when it was a foregone conclusion that I would be joining the Vulcan Science Academy.”  Spock told them, nose wrinkling a bit – adorably in Jim’s semi-wistful opinion – at the reminder of that near-blunder.  “Covering biological imperatives and the accompanying hormonal and pheromonal responses.”

“Christ on a cracker.”  Leo breathed, eyes wide as he jumped – wisely – to the correct conclusion of Spock’s story.

“What?”  Jim asked crankily only to be waved off by the doctor that was rapidly punching in new parameters to the computers and bringing up new scans.

“My father’s people call it _pon farr_.”  Spock enlightened him.  “It has no easy English or Federation Standard translation but a crude proximity would be: mating madness.  It is the biological imperative that strikes a Vulcan without warning, giving us a brief period of time to find an acceptable mate and well…”  Spock trailed off, eyes looking pointedly away from the now-grinning Captain as his cheeks blushed green.

“So…”  Jim drawled, ridiculously amused – both by Spock’s embarrassment and the situation as a whole.  “The Scout-Wonder is in _heat?”_

“Or something like it, maybe.”  Leo told him with a snort and a muttered “infant” at Jim’s open glee now that the situation looked less life-threatening and more chastity – or whatever the Tovenaar practiced in regards to reproductive habits – threatening.

“Well.”  Jim beamed at his best-friends and CMO and First Officer.  “This trip just got a _lot_ more interesting…don’t you think?”

…

 


	11. Ten: Viable

** Harder Choices **

**_Author’s Note:_ ** _Yes, I know holodecks aren’t a thing really until TNG, but this is fanfiction so meh!_

_"Progress is impossible without change, and those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything.”_

_\- George Bernard Shaw_

**Chapter Ten: Viable**

Betting ran hot through the crew of the _Enterprise_ over whether the alien male who’d collapsed post-transport would actually make it to the welcoming dinner with the Captain and command crew or not, with most betting on a no-show, no matter how potentially embarrassing that might be for the alien ambassador.

They were staying in Camelot’s orbit until the next morning to help acclimate the diplomatic envoy to being on a starship – especially in light of the bodyguard’s reaction to beaming.

Then it was to be a couple days to cruise through the Avalon system while still within transport range of the _Valiant_ , and then from there a straight shot to Earth – which would take at least two weeks if not three, a number which had startled the envoys and heralded a series of calls via communicator from the Tovenaar Ambassador to Ambassador Selek on the surface, letting them know that they would be gone longer than anticipated, approximately two months rather than two weeks as had been assumed based on the little they knew about the _Enterprise_ ’s maximum flight speed.

Camelot was, after all, somewhere around a hundred light-years away from year, and even at warp-nine with their new upgrades after the _Narada_ incident, they couldn’t make the trip _quite_ as fast as the Tovenaar had thought.

At least, not _safely_ , since if given the challenge, Engineer Montgomery Scott would probably be more than capable of figuring out some insane method of hitting a speed between warp nine and ten – which was infinite velocity and unsafe for travel…if you wanted to make it to the end of the journey _alive_ anyway.

So, due to the rampant betting, there was much grumbling and groaning on the _Enterprise_ when the doors to the dining hall slid open with a hiss and all four of the diplomats – and bodyguard – entered and greeted the waiting Captain, all seeming as if the bodyguard _hadn’t_ had some kind of post-transport break-down mere hours before.

“Gentlemen.”  Jim stepped up, not even smirking over raking in the credits from most of his command crew over the Scout’s appearance – apparently in a mating imperative or not.

Except, interestingly enough, for Bones who had likewise bet on the Scout though hadn’t given a reason as to why.

“Welcome to the command dining hall.”  Jim gestured to each of the command crew, rattling off the names of Dr. Leonard McCoy, “Spock, who you’re already familiar with…”, Engineer Scott – _please lads, call me Scotty_ – Lieutenant Uhura, and Ensign Chekov.  Helmsman Sulu was in command of the bridge while the other main officers wined and dined the diplomatic envoy.

Taking back the reins of the meeting, Mycroft introduced Lord Remus Lupin and Scout Rian, as both were absent the tour wherein both Mycroft and Sirius met the bridge and command crew.

“Please…”  Jim held out a hand towards the table as his crew – and friends – moved to stand behind their seats.  It was an intentional arrangement, putting the Ambassador on Jim’s right and Lord Sirius on his left, with Spock between the Lord and his “mate” Remus while Leo was between the Ambassador and the Scout.  Scotty was posted up next to the Scout with Uhura at the end of the table, and Chekov opposite Scotty.  It was a typical arrangement when dealing with _friendlier_ races than some others that the _Enterprise_ has taxi’d around the galaxy in the past.  “Be seated.”

As had already been arranged, until Dr. McCoy was able to run tests on whether the _Tovenaar_ could or should try and eat replicated food.

When they’d been notified of the true length of the trip, extra supplies had been sent via transporter from the beacon site to the _Valiant_ and then onto the _Enterprise_ , including enough supplies for a modest dinner with the command crew – complete with a few bottles from Hadrian’s private reserves.

Being great friends growing up with the Heir and then Lord of the Nimue vineyards was a most excellent way to replenish an alcohol supply, though now that both Wills and the Nimue vineyards were mere memory, he took a great deal more care in plundering said supply.

“This looks amazing.”  Scotty all-but-drooled over the plates of simple _antipasti_ at was delivered up from the “hobby” kitchen that was close to the other hobbyist centers to keep the crew from losing their ever-loving-minds while stuck in space for months on end.  A pair of the crew had eagerly received instructions via communicator from the staff at Skye Palace for the prep and presentation of the meals, relishing the challenge when steps that were closer to aged-out cooking techniques had to be explained to them.

Little did they know, those “palace cooks” were glamoured house elves.

While Jim and Spock kept the older Tovenaar occupied – or so they thought, underestimating their abilities to multitask…and Sirius and Remus’s advanced hearing – Leo refrained from sighing and engaged the Scout Rian.

Jim was meddling… _again_ …and wanted Leo to get some more – and hopefully clear – scans of the Scout as well as any information he was able to pry from who seemed to be a rather reserved, or maybe simply observant, Tovenaar.

Bones, feeling more than a little put-upon, went about it with his usual subtlety.

“I’m going to need to see you in my medbay, Scout Rian.”  He stated bluntly as they dug into the first course.  “I’ve never seen a reaction to transport that severe.”

“Please, call me Rian.”  Hadrian offered.  “And I don’t see that as being a problem – or something that should repeat itself.”

_Especially since he doubted he’d ever be beamed unknowingly into a room with more than one of his potential mates again._

“All the same.”  Bones shrugged.  “Better to be safe than sorry.  It was a panic attack, your Ambassador said?”

“Mmm.”  Hadrian waggled his knife in a so-so gesture.  “After a fashion.  As a Scout I’m more… _connected_ to the land than most.  Part of my abilities to track and scout are rooted in that connection.  The sudden absence was a bit of a shock to the system.”

Plausible, Leo could concede.  And complete bullshit.  Though something about the connection to the land rang true, his instincts were telling him that it wasn’t the cause of the fit he’d gone into.

Unless a sudden appearance on a starship managed to throw only _one_ of the Tovenaar into a mating frenzy, that is.

Though Rian’s it seemed was less all-consuming than Vulcan _pon faar_ , as he was able to walk and talk and rejoin his companions – and his post – without more than a few hours to rest.

That was the trouble with First Contact.

There was never any way to predict reactions, whether biological or otherwise.

The meal continued on this way, Rian staying quiet – unknown to the others, testing with his magic to try and discover the source, or sources, behind his curse acting up.  Spock, he already knew.  But the feedback he was getting otherwise was hard to decipher.

Potter luck, as Remus had said, to not only find one of his mates, but multiple all at the same time and in the same place.

Though, not _all_ , or else he feared his magic would have done more than just a little acting out, no matter how inconvenient.

“Captain,” Mycroft said towards the end of the meal – a berry and custard concoction that was among Hadrian’s favorites – “is there a place onboard this ship where my companions might be able to exercise and spar?”  He arched a brow.  “With the length of our journey longer than anticipated, they will need stay in top form.”

“Selek spoke of a _holodeck_ during our talks.”  Rian supplied as the officers exchanged glances.  “If the _Enterprise_ is equipped with one – and has a padded floor – it should do.”

“There’s a rotation for usage, as it’s one of the main recreation areas on ship.”  Spock told him politely.  “However, our holodeck should suit your needs.”

“Excellent.”  Mycroft flashed one of his shark grins, thoughts of the _show_ the trio of lords-and-King could put on for their not-nearly-wary-enough hosts.

…

Leo awoke to the annoying beeping of his PADD.

“What?”  He groused, sitting up and scrubbing one hand over his stubbled jaw.

He knew that beep after all, it wasn’t the ship’s computer summoning him for an emergency, no.

It was the annoying beep of a best-friend and captain that wanted to get the ever-living-shit kicked out of him by his irate-and-tired Chief Medical Officer.

“Rise and shine, Bones.”  Jim’s too-perky-for-the-hour voice came over the PADD.  “Get to the holodeck, you’re gonna want to see this.”

Grumbling as the PADD shut off, Leo stumbled his way through getting into his street clothes, uniform bedamned he wasn’t on the clock yet and Jim sounded entirely too chipper – excited, that was for sure – for him to start his shift early.

Whatever it was that had the _Enterprise’s_ captain up at – _zero-five-hundred Leo’s maiden aunt… -_ it would have to settle for Leo’s raggedy grey exercise pants and a pullover shirt in the same bright blue as his Science command uniform shirt.

…

Leo took one step into the control room of the holodeck, which contained a wide window out into the massive room used for both training and recreation, and froze in his tracks as a new wave of sensation broke over him, instincts he’d struggled to contain for longer than he cared to think about washing over him.

Though, his instincts weren’t the only things giving him trouble.

The sight of the scout Rian twisting and turning and flipping in ways that he hadn’t seen in person in _years_ more than most would admit to was doing a damn fine job of aggravating his sudden problem.

And seeing a pretty man – better, a _deadly_ pretty man – twirling a wooden staff in practiced movements, nearly dancing through a graceful kata, was a problem for Leo.

Specifically, a problem for a part of Leo that he’d fought to keep in check – a secret he hadn’t shared with a living soul – that had a distinct _taste_ for pretty, deadly men.

Or Tovenaar, he supposed, in this case.

It was only after Rian paused and turned towards the door to the holodeck which opened to welcome Lord Sirius and Lord Remus into the room, that Leo even took notice of the others watching the scouts intoxicating-but-lethal dance.

Jim and Spock were both present, which was still a bit of a surprise given Jim’s dislike of the early morning, as was Sulu, the latter he would guess mainly out of professional fencing curiosity for another fighter.

Jim, the infant, had even brought popcorn.

“Alright, I’m here.”  Leo growled, stomping over to the window as if he hadn’t just spent long moments gawking like a teen popping his first boner over the alien warrior, which was as clear as day to him at least after seeing Rian “exercising” alone, long before the other _guards_ arrived for what appeared to be a rough-and-tumble spar.

Heavy on both of the rough and tumble, as from what Leo could tell none of the trio were pulling punches though Rian had at least tossed the staff off into the corner where some other practice weapons were piled on one of the bags the group had brought along for their journey.

Jim gestured to the computer, where read-outs of Rian’s – and now Sirius and Remus’s – scans during their holodeck exercises were up and being processed by the ship’s computer.

“He’s been at this for _hours_.”  Jim explained.  “And his adrenaline and endorphins _still_ haven’t spiked as high as they did on his arrival to the _Enterprise._ ”

“Spock?”  Leo asked, reviewing the information for himself, though Jim was no idiot for all that he was often impulsive and immature.

“I am reluctant to venture a hypothesis without accurate testing.”  Spock began, rolling right over Jim’s scoff without so much of an arched eyebrow.  “However, if pressed, I would begin to suppose that our guest’s…mating imperative seems to be situational and not a constant state of being.”

It clicked, though it was _definitely_ proof that the Tovenaar weren’t human in origin though humanoid in species.

“He only goes into a heat when near a desirable mate.”  Jim’s glee was only partially scientific in nature, netting him a head-slap from his best-friend and Chief Medical Officer.  “Which…”  Jim pouted a bit over the slap but continued anyway.  “Means that someone in that transporter room is a viable or desirable mate for our residence Tovenaar scout.”

All four men – including the desperately-ignoring-the-conversation-Sulu – watched the view-screen a little longer, though for three of them had a now- _vested_ interest in the scout.

After all…they were three of the now-theorized _viable mates_ for the lethal creature that’s currently handing the asses of his elder warriors to themselves without so much as breaking a sweat.

And considering the secret Leo was hiding, it made him wonder just _what_ were the markers of a viable mate for a male Tovenaar with lethal skills and a far-too-pretty face?

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder: This is an a/u of Avalon Seven so things that are mentioned may or more likely may not ever happen in the main fic.
> 
> As a result, I can't say how often I'll be updating this but feel free to check my facebook for updates on what I'm currently working on and estimates for when new chapters will be posted.


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